Adventures of a Dragglehoof
by Sioranth
Summary: Pathia "Runeclaw" Wildmane is a young Tauren Druid who is out exploring the wonders of Azeroth and beyond for the first time. She has led a secluded life in a small village and this chronicles her adventures as she grows and learns.
1. The Big City

Pathia tilted her head back and stared straight up to the launch projecting off the Lower Rise of Thunder Bluff. Her mouth gaped slightly as a crooked smile worked its way over her features. _She would finally see the city! _The lift descended amid shuddering groans and creaks that changed her grin to a suspicious tightening of her lips; after all, she was hardly capable of flight if that thing should suddenly plummet back to Mulgore's plains. A gust of wind buffeted against the structure, and it swayed with what she considered an alarming amount of jostling. Tentatively, she took a step backwards away from the conveyance as it landed, only to be thrust forward again as several people behind her merged ahead to board. She muttered a soft prayer as it slowly ascended and then stumbled her way onto the Lower Rise when it _finally_ reached the top.

Her nose wrinkled up into an expression of distaste as she was assaulted by the overwhelming stench of perfume and cologne. She coughed a few times and then exhaled forcefully through her nares as if that could clear the cloying aroma from her sense of smell. Then she attempted to breathe shallowly through her mouth until, after a few breaths, she realized that only made her _taste_ the scents. She pinched her nose shut with one hand, covered her mouth with the palm, and hailed a Bluffwatcher with her free hand.

"Excuse me?" she called with a muffled nasal twang to gain his attention.

"Yes?" he replied with amorous smile which was quickly followed by a frown. "You have no token for me? Do you not love me?"

"Er…" Pathia blinked in puzzlement at the large male. "I have some Mulgore spice bread," she offered with that crooked grin that gave her muzzle a sideways appearance. She released her nose to root through the small pouch drooping off her cracked leather belt. The blunt tip of one stubby finger poked through a hole in the bottom, enlarging it marginally, before she triumphantly pulled out a shattered loaf of bread. One end had been completely squashed flat, and the other looked like she had already been chewing on it. She dangled it in her fingertips in a poor imitation of what she had seen the hunters in her village doing with kodo meat and a newly tamed companion.

The guard dragged his hand over his face with a weary sigh. "Why is it always on my shifts? Kal never has these problems," he muttered to himself. He dropped his hand away only to wave it in dismissal at the ragtag young woman. She looked like she had been sleeping in a briar patch for the last week and liked it so much she had brought the whole bush with her. He resisted the urge to pluck some errant twigs and leaves from her mane as he would one of his daughters. "What do you need, Sister?" he asked in a more kindly tone.

Pathia bounced twice on her hooves and shoved the bread back into the pouch, producing a shower of crumbs to pool at the ground next to her and attracting several nearby birds. She paid them no mind as they squabbled across her hooves and dove at her swaying tail.

"Well, firstly, I need to find Kym Wildmane here; she's a Druid. I was told she would be on the Elder Rise, but I am not sure which direction that is." She shoved a worn map against his nose. It showed three overlapping circles for the three main rises as well as three outer circles for the extended rises. None of them were labeled.

The guard gritted his teeth and then gently pushed her arm down so that he could actually see what she was trying to show him. He quickly labeled the outer rises as well as the main rises with a piece of charcoal. Then he drew a rather blatant arrow pointing towards the center of the Elder Rise. "You will find the Runetotems and other druids here. You need to take that ramp over there," he instructed slowly as if speaking with a simpleton. "Follow it up to the next rise. From there you will find the bridge that will take you to Elder Rise. If you get lost, just ask the guard with the broken horn up there," he added with a chuckle. _That'll serve Malyn right for that trick he played last week involving that harpy_, he thought.

"Wonderful! Secondly, what tokens?" she continued with a curious slant to her ears.

"What what?" he countered with a measure of confusion before a light seemed to dawn on him. "Oh! Love tokens in exchange for these." He held out a small package wrapped in pink paper. "They have flowers, chocolates, dresses…" he trailed off, suddenly realizing how ridiculous it all sounded. "Look, I just do what I'm told. Sometimes this job isn't all about thumping wayward Night Elves that took a wrong turn and stumbled onto the Bluff, you know?" He scratched the back of his neck and mumbled something under his breath.

Pathia's lips merely twitched at the corners as she gave him a cheery wave as thanks and trotted off towards the ramp at the far end of the rise. Her head swiveled left and right and back again as she marveled at the sheer number of people dodging back and forth across the rise. She had never seen a Blood Elf or Forsaken in person.

"I wonder which is which?" she murmured as she went past a group that was clearly not Orc, Troll, or Tauren.

Contrary to the guard's opinion of her, she was no simpleton and she found her way over the Elder Rise without incident. Kym was easy to spot and much like Pathia remembered from when she had last seen the Druid.

"Kym! It is good to see you again," Pathia greeted her warmly as the two embraced.

"And you as well, Runeclaw. Does this mean you have decided to take my advice?" She had last seen the young female at the ceremony marking her entrance to adulthood. She had sensed that the typical hunter's path known among the Wildmane held no appeal for Pathia, an idea that was only reinforced when the Elders of their tribe bestowed the name "Runeclaw" upon her.

Pathia bobbed her head enthusiastically. "I have! I have no desire to tromp through the woods firing off shot or bolt while chasing after something that hasn't bathed in a week."

Kym merely smirked silently in response as Pathia had never been known for her neat appearance. Even now, Pathia stood before her with herbs and plants tangled in her fur, a few owl feathers jutting haphazardly from around her tunic, and what looked like a few bear teeth hanging around her neck on a leather thong that seemed in danger of breaking any second. She nodded encouragingly for Pathia to continue.

"The Elders seemed eager for me to come here to train in the ways of a Druid as well," she went on, her smile faltering for a second. "I'm sure it had nothing to do with what happened during archery practice. I really had no idea the wind would shift like that and carry the dart to Elder Thal's backside. The shamans fixed him right up though, and I think he was even able to sit again by the time I left," she finished optimistically.

Kym choked on a guffaw that sputtered into a coughing fit. When she had regained her composure she smiled broadly, "Come then, and meet the Arch Druid, Hamuul Runetotem." She took the other woman by the arm and led the way to the beginning of "Runeclaw's" official training.


	2. I'mma Bear, rawr!

"The time has come for us to part ways, young one, as the application of your lessons takes you back to whom that sent you to me. Mathrengyl Bearwalker walks truly in balance with nature, even as he dwells precariously close to where the balance has faltered. Listen to his instructions, and you will soon complete your first lessons into your role as a protector of balance.

"Go now, young one. We shall meet again."

Runeclaw really couldn't help the glazed look that had swallowed her face by the time the Great Bear Spirit finally came to the end of its tale. She had thought this would be a quick hello and good-bye to get acquainted not an endless lecture on strength of character and balance. Just five minutes into the spiel she had been reduced back to the daydreaming youth chewing on the end of one tattered braid and sitting at the hooves of one of the Elders of her tribe. She had listened to them drone on for hours until nothing was left of their voices but the lazy hum of a midsummer bumblebee. Just so, the same thing occurred now and her mind was a million miles away and chasing butterflies and dappled rays of sunlight with her siblings.

"Go now, young one. We shall meet again," the ethereal bear repeated more firmly.

The young Tauren continued to sit there with a soggy rope of mane hanging from one corner of her mouth. A small smile curled her muzzle and she seemed quite pleased about something, but her eyes were staring off to the right at the rocky peak that rose up behind the bear's back. The bear sighed softly through its nose as motes of phantasmal dust wafted around it into the air. One heavy paw lifted and then slammed into the earth, creating a subsonic rumble that jostled the woman's rump and shot straight up her spine to send her keeling over backwards. She hopped to her feet immediately with a look of stunned alertness.

"Go now, girl! Back to Bearwalker!" With a shake of its shaggy head, it lumbered back into the greenery. Just once, it'd like to swallow some of these whelps whole. _That_ would be a little balance.

Runeclaw rubbed the base of her swishing tail and frowned at the receding backside of the Bear Spirit. "What a grump," she groused good-naturedly before turning on her heel and starting back to Nighthaven.

Upon reaching Elder Bearwalker, she was disheartened to learn that she wasn't quite done with learning the way of the bear spirit. No, now she had to go talk to Elder Runetotem again, and another nearby druid rambled something at her about a lunar claw and The Barrens. The extraordinary long flight back to Thunder Bluff, with an unscheduled tour of Stranglethorn Vale, gave her plenty of time to work herself into a fine froth with remembrance of her last trip through that dry wash of land known as The Barrens. Centaurs, hyenas, and even giant scorpions had plagued her on her journey from Feralas. By the time she reached the city and spoke to Elder Runetotem she had, however, formulated a plan.

"Hullo there!" she hailed Tal, the flight master, not long after her initial landing.

"Yes? Where would you like to go?" he asked preemptively, looking down at the tiny but stocky woman wiggling her fingers in front of his nose. He had seen worse fly in, although usually they were from Orgrimmar by way of the Undercity. When she had arrived both of her thick braids had been sopping wet and stuck to the front of her leather tunic, and there was still a twisted bit of what looked like jungle vine around one horn. His gaze skipped suspiciously to the wyvern she had dismounted; it was trying to slink out of the aerie now that the druid had returned. It sported a distinctly fishy odor and more bits of serpentine vine were wound around the stinger of its tail and tied in a…bow? Tal's attention snapped back to the diminutive female.

"I would like to go to The Barrens, where they are keeping the lunar claw for druids, specifically," Runeclaw replied with bright optimism.

Tal opened his mouth and then snapped it shut as he formulated a response. Surely, she wasn't serious, was she? She didn't appear to be very bright with her vapid smile and that constant bouncing on the tips of her hooves. At length he said, "I do not know this Lunar Claw outpost. You can fly to The Crossroads or Camp Taurajo, if you know the way." He spoke very slowly and succinctly.

"Why do I need to know the way? Can't you just tell them where to go and put them on auto-pilot like those goblin gizmos?" Runeclaw motioned to the wyvern that had half its bulk out of the window of the tower which prompted it to drop out completely as it landed with a thud on the netting strung outside.

"No, you need to know the way to the place you are going in order to guide the wyvern and make sure it stays on course," Tal explained again with methodical emphasis on words he considered important.

"Oh…," she frowned. "Oh!" A smile suddenly lit up her face. "Well that would explain a whole lot about my trip from Moonglade. You see, I have an absolutely abysmal sense of direction, and it was just another reason I couldn't be a hunter, but that's neither here nor there really because there were _so many_ reasons that it would take me half a day to explain all of them. The point is, the wyvern and I, we took a little detour because I wasn't really sure which way was which, and frankly, I wasn't paying a whole lot of attention either because the view from up there just absolutely spectacular! Anyway, there was a lot of water involved though, and that was the biggest pond I've ever seen! Then, there were a whole lot of trolls, but they were green and that just didn't seem right because all the trolls here seem to be kind of blue, and it just seemed like seeing a brown orc and whoever heard of such a silly thing as a brown orc?, and so we had to go alllll the way back across that great pond again and," she paused to draw in a breath and Tal blinked in stupefied fascination for half a second before gathering enough wits to interrupt before she could start again.

"Look here, girl, did you fly that poor beast over the entire ocean and back again?" His look was a mixture of horror and grudging respect to have managed to keep the animal aloft for quite so long.

She nodded at him as the trademark crooked grin slipped into place across her countenance. "I think maybe I did! If the ocean is a great big pond with little islands to land on, but you really have to be careful where you decide to take a break because some of the things roaming those islands are really unfriendly, and they even try to eat you if you land nearby and won't even take the tough jerky you throw at them instead, but you can't really blame them because jerky tastes…," she broke off suddenly as Tal grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her so hard her teeth rattled.

"Be quiet, girl! I can hardly hear myself think!"

Runeclaw just smiled and half-nodded her bobbling head as if she'd heard those same words a million times before, but she did obediently close her mouth and wait for Tal to collect himself and get back to the original matter at hand. He released her shoulders slowly and then dragged a calloused palm over the wide plane of his muzzle.

"All right, here's what you're going to do, girl. You're going to have to walk to Camp T because I just can't send out one of my wyverns to Earthmother knows where. When you get there, you can speak to Omusa Thunderhorn and see if he'll send you back here on one of _his_ wyverns. As for whatever you're looking for out there, you might ask around the camp about that as well or perhaps your fellow druids here on the Elder Rise." He gave a heavy snort as he finished speaking as if to say "and that's that!" before giving her a little push down the ramp.

Runeclaw stumbled over the tail that was about two feet too long for her body, whipped it behind her in a maneuver born of years of practice, and skipped the rest of the way back to Elder Rise to speak to Kym. That conversation went much more smoothly as Kym simply marked the position on Runeclaw's tattered little map and sent her on her way with tidings of good luck on her quest.

It took longer than anticipated for Runeclaw to lope across Mulgore as she stopped to speak with a fellow druid about harpies, Moonglade, and lunar claws, and it was already growing dark by the time she spotted the shining little stone nestled behind an abandoned hut at the border of The Barrens.

"Doesn't look much like a claw to me," she spoke aloud with a shrug as she unceremoniously dumped the bag of dust over the top of it. "I guess that's it then. Oh look, one of those chicken druids came out to congratula-AGHHH!"

Lunaclaw bore down on the druid with a squawking roar that sent Runeclaw scrambling to the other side of the nacreous stone. "That's not a very nice way to say hello! I was just doing what they told-ACK! Bad! Bad owlchicken!" she scolded loudly as the beast's claws rent a tear into the brand new tunic she had just had fashioned out of a bright pink plainstrider hide only earlier today.

Quickly, she summoned weakly grasping roots from out of the arid earth. The thorny flora writhed its way around the moonkin and tangled into its feathers, producing pained screech. She wasted no time putting some space between her and the raging beast. Her quick temper swelled to the forefront as she fingered the rip in the fabric where her fur poked through. Her paws sparked with a mossy green halo before exploding from her fingertips in a charged burst of energy. Several more blasts followed swiftly on the heels of the first until her wrath expended itself and her along with it. It was only then as she panted softly to regain her breath that she noticed Lunaclaw lying in a heap on the ground.

Slowly, she approached with twitching nose alert for a ruse. An apparition blossomed from the slain form and stared at her intently, as though seeking something from her. Thunking her forehead with the ball of her hand she recalled a more correct interpretation of the Elder's words before he had sent her on her way.

"You're one tough cookie, owlchicken. However, I am here toask you to grant me the strength of your body and the strength of your heartso that I may become a bear, now that I have, uh, vanquished you?" Runeclaw finished a bit uncertainly. She wasn't really sure how formal these types of things were supposed to be, but she did her best as much as she was able.

The spirit looked unblinking into her eyes and then enfolded her hand between the oddly soft feathers framing its talons. Warmth slowly flooded through her body like an incoming tide until every nerve ending was suffused with the thick, syrupy comfort. It grew in intensity until her breath rushed out of her in a heated whoosh, her tail grew absolutely still, and her knees wavered on the verge of buckling. Only then did it start to recede. As the glow faded from her limbs, an ursine essence took its place. Her spine straightened with steely resolve, and she dipped her muzzle respectfully to the fading form before her. There was no time to waste dickering with another flight master, and so she simply pulled the smoothly etched stone from her bag that would pull her across the nether and back to return to Thunder Bluff.

Now, her first true transformation, the form of bear, would be hers to command.


	3. A Trip to Booty Bay

"I have to go where?" Pathia asked for the third time and watched as Kah dragged his hand over his face and sighed. She absently noted that a lot of people here seemed to make that gesture when conversing with her. Perhaps it was some strange Thunder Bluff custom.

"To. Booty. Bay," the angler repeated once more. "There is an old man there, Old Man Heming, who will have a book you can read in order to learn more about fishing."

"Does it have pictures?" she grinned.

"I don't know if it has pictures!" he thundered in exasperation, only to realize she had been baiting him, again. He poked a finger at her nose. "Look here, girl, you get yourself down to Ratchet and take the boat to Booty Bay. Look sharp while you're there as the place is swarming with Alliance that would love to dirty their blades on a young druid."

She cocked her head at his serious mien and nodded appropriately while mentally rolling her eyes with the naivety of youth. "Yes, sir!" she responded with a jaunty salute before turning abruptly, shifting to cat, and racing towards the aerie at the top of the ramp.

Tal cringed as he saw the ragamuffin druid pop out of cat form in front of him. Yesterday she had returned on a wyvern that had had its tail coated in tar and its ears buried under a cock-eyed kingsblood crown. When he had finally sputtered out a request for an explanation, she had babbled some long-winded answer about wrong turns, heavy leather balls, and angry tar beasts. Then she had given him that crooked smile, patted him on the nose, and skipped down the ramp.

"Yes?" he asked cautiously.

"I need to go to Booty Bay" she said with characteristic optimism.

"You mean you need to go to Ratchet," he clarified. "You'll need to take the boat from there," he said firmly, already seeing where this was heading.

"You mean one of these guys can't just fly me over there?" she asked, motioning at the wyverns who were trying to crawl under their perches.

"No, they cannot," Tal said firmly. "Look here, girl…"

"Why are people always saying that?" she interrupted.

"Look here! You are going to take this wyvern straight to Ratchet, and so help me, _girl_, if you so much as deviate it from its course by one breath I will personally make sure that you walk to every destination in Kalimdor for the rest of your natural life."

"Fine, fine! Jeez, there's no need to get so upset about it. I _said_ it was accident. Decide to take one scenic tour…" she grumbled.

She paid him with coins coated in a sticky residue resembling honey and hot spices and rattled off something about a new spice bread recipe as she flew out of the flight tower. She remained true to her word though, as she always did, and let the wyvern follow its learned course straight to Ratchet. Even still, the ungrateful beast practically tossed her onto what she had learned was a Gnome, not a small human child, standing next to Bragok. She patted both the little men on their bald pates and then shifted once again to cat form before bounding down the docks.

She had never been on a boat before and was looking forward to the trip. She was surprised to see that she was the only person journeying to this bay of booties, but it allowed her to poke at all the nooks and crannies aboard the boat as it sailed across the sea. She marveled at its lack of crew, but she had come to realize that Goblins could do a great many things with their machinery.

As she caught sight of Goblin town across the ocean, she jumped up and down excitedly and caused the wooden planks beneath her hooves to protest. As soon as she could see the bay itself, she leapt into the water and took it as an opportunity to practice her little-used sea lion form. She dove deep and burst through a few schools of fish, sending them swimming out in all directions. It was only when she saw a rather large shark at the fringe of the bay that she decided to swim towards the far dock.

"Wait until I write Kitahl about this place!" she exclaimed, thinking of the last letter she had sent to her older brother. It had contained a fish from the pond in Thunder Bluff as he hadn't believed that there are ponds right in the middle of some of the cities. Of course, the fish had not been cooked or preserved since she wanted to make sure it was a "fresh catch." She giggled to herself just thinking about it again.

"Hullo! Mr. Goblin!"

"Huh? Whatch-you-want, kid?" He eyed her skeptically and immediately decided she wouldn't have any coin to "convince" her to part with.

"Where can I find an old man selling fish books?"

The Goblin jerked his head over his shoulder at the shack just to the right of the little ramp she had swum up and then continued on his way without another word.

Pathia paid no mind to his curtness and darted into the building, startling Old Man Heming and nearly causing him to skewer his thumb with the lure he was making.

"What the fel! Look here, girl, you can't come charging in on people like that!"

"Why not?" she asked as she poked her nose over his head to investigate the fishing fly he had been creating.

"Why not? WHY NOT?!" He took a deep breath and placed his hands on his worktable to steady his nerves. "Is there something you want or are you just here to be a general nuisance?"

She dropped the feather she had plucked off the lure and smile brightly at him in her typical lopsided manner. "I wish to learn more about fishing in deeper waters and techniques for better casting."

He thrust a book at her unceremoniously. "One gold." She shoved a large, gooey coin across the counter, scooped up her book, and zoomed back out again with a hurried "thank you" as she ran across the long pier to the dock. For a moment, she considered using the small, etched stone that could bring her back to Thunder Bluff; it was much quicker, but she wasn't very fond of the queasy and disoriented feeling it left her with. The boat ride had been so much fun though that she decided to do it again.

"Hmpf, I haven't seen a single booty, Alliance or otherwise," she remarked to herself. Goblins hardly counted, in her opinion. The place was nearly deserted except for a hunched over figure fishing off the end of the dock. She thumbed through her copy of "Expert Fishing – The Bass and You" as she waited. She dog-eared the pages she considered noteworthy and worth a closer look when she had more time.

She took on her cat form once again as the boat landed, feeling quite comfortable as it allowed her to prowl quietly and be privy to things that she might otherwise not be. A Night Elf ran onto the boat after her and up to rigging above her head. She was unconcerned about his boarding; after all, there was just one of him. Unconcerned at least until the boat departed the dock and he suddenly popped out of nowhere behind her.

So surprised was she that she merely stood there stunned for a few moments as he pummeled her. When she finally came out of her stupor, she realized that she was severely outmatched and so she did the only sensible thing. She dropped to the deck like a leaden sack and "played dead" like the hunters in her tribe. She was terrible at it and was sure the Elf would notice her chest rising and falling with her quickened breathing. However, he appeared to be not very bright and merely stood still, looming over her like some slavering dog waiting for its dinner.

As soon as the scents and sounds of Ratchet reached her, she opened her eyes, hopped to her feet, and ran for the side of the boat. She stumbled as she reached the rail and one his daggers bit into her shoulder. She threw herself over the side and into the ocean, sinking beneath the waves as she struggled to reach the blade still protruding from her upper back. Pain lanced down her arm and into her neck, and she just barely kept it tolerable with her weak healing skills. Already she could feel a deadly poison seeping into her blood. She landed upon some rocks at the floor of the sea and used these to wedge the small knife from her flesh. From there, she was able to cure herself of the toxin and swim slowly back to the shore.

She emerged from the water covered in stranglekelp and with blood soaking her leather armor. Bragok yelped in alarm and ran to hide behind a nearby tree before poking his head out cautiously at the sea creature. "You eat those wyverns and you'll pay!" he shouted.

"What? I just want a ride back to Thunder Bluff," she said, pulling the tendrils of kelp away from her face and peering out between them.

And so it was that poor Tal suffered a sprained hock when upon landing she scared the poor flight master right off the top of the tower. Apparently, she was going to be doing a lot of walking around Kalimdor in the days to come.


	4. Runeclaw Pimps her Ride

Dear Kitahl,

I got a mount, sort of…

There I was just cat-frolicking my way through gobs of snow in a placed called Dun Morogh when I heard the oddest sound. It reminded me of a sheep with an accent. I burst onto the scene in a poofy cloud of wet powder and with a playful roar. How was I to know there'd be a few of those short, hairy humans called Dwarves milling about? The really, really short one fell face forward over a rabbit and then ran screaming to a woman with a beard who shoved the little one into a barrel and then ran pell-mell for the mountains. A high-strung male in a crude pen fired off some shots at me, which I thought was quite rude, so I did the only plausible thing and pounced him silly before stealing his rifle. Apparently, this didn't sit so well with him and he took off with what sounded like a string of obscenities. I was all alone with some hoofed and horned and saddled creatures making sheep-with-accent noises in a big corral. (I later learned these things are called goats.)

Now, I have to admit I'd never seen such odd beasts before so when I spotted another hoofed creature with a blue tint snoozing in the corner I didn't think much of it. Well, not much except that he was clearly a rarity among the short-hairy-human mounts, and so I decided that he would make quite a prize and would be much better than the standard kodo. I quickly laid a trap consisting of some of my new Super Sticky Spice Bread, a bucket, and a young, fresh evergreen and then faded into the shadows to wait.

It didn't take long for his nose to start twitching when the scent of the bread wafted his way on a breeze. He was an amazing specimen! Practically oozing supernatural qualities of perfection! Or maybe that was something else oozing…no matter! While the other goats were hairy and made loud maa'ing sounds, this one stretched to an impressive two-legged height and then proudly and quietly pranced over to the bread. His physique was smooth, and his armor gleamed more brightly than the painted leather on the others. He even had a long flowing cape that billowed regally on a little puff of winter wind. I just knew I would be the envy of everyone back in our village!

Soon enough he bent forward and picked up the hunk of bread. As soon as his attention was diverted I rushed forward with the bucket and slammed it on top of his horned noggin. It took a bit of wriggling and shoving to secure it firmly as his head was much bigger than I originally anticipated and he was uncooperative, with lots of muffled shouting and pinwheeling of his forelimbs. I absently noted at the time that they looked more like hands than hooves but was too busy to dwell on such things. I jumped off with a triumphant yell and then shoved him towards the tree. He stumbled and landed with a thud amidst the branches. I do believe a pinecone was lodged somewhere uncomfortable as more angry bellows erupted from inside the bucket. So much for this one being quiet!

He finally stopped thrashing after the sticky pine tar and flexible tree limbs had managed to slow him down by tangling up in the bucket handle, his armor, and that silly flapping cape. His tail jerked twice and then came to a standstill as well. Victory was mine! I wasted no time in grabbing a saddle and attempting to buckle my new ride into the contraption. It didn't fit very well and he bucked a few times. It occurred to me that perhaps this one wasn't broken in yet. I was determined, however, and I was sure I was up to the task. With a few prods and pokes and grunts I had him all secured and finally unscrewed the bucket from his head after looping a rope around his neck and tying it to the fence.

He blinked dazedly in the harsh white light of sun reflecting off thick snow. He didn't look quite as intelligent as the others, and he had some tentacle-like growths sprouting from his neck. I thought perhaps he had some kind of parasitic infection. While he was still stunned by the light I dug through my pack for the skinning knife I used to scale fish while simultaneously grabbing the tentacles with my free hand. A decidedly feminine shriek erupted from my mount as his gaze focused on my actions. I thought maybe he wasn't male after all, and no, Kitahl, I was not going to look! It's unseemly!

"Be still, you silly nag! Those things need to come off!" I told it sternly. He, er, she, um, it! fought like the dickens until I finally gave it a firm slap on the nose and thundered, "NO!"

Imagine my surprise when it slapped me back and knocked the knife right out of my hand! It uttered some guttural sounds at me which I interpreted as "NO!" With a growl of frustration I gave up the removal of the parasite for the time being. I had some caustics back in Thunder Bluff that I had been working on in the alchemy lab. I figured I could burn them off instead once we got back. No, I have not been working on a love potion for you to use on that poor hunter. Stop shaving her bear to get her attention and she'll stop "accidentally" firing arrows at you!

Speaking of getting back, it finally dawned on me that perhaps I should get moving before those whisker-endowed folks came back with reinforcements. I distracted the big, blue goat with more spice bread and then slipped a bridle over its head. I gave it a swift jab to the belly. As its mouth gaped like a suffocating fish, I brought the bit home. I'm sure it wouldn't mind that the bit looked a little pre-used by its fellow pen mates. Another string of now-mumbled utterances came from my goat. I paid no mind as I swung myself onto the big critter's back, swayed left, swayed right, pitched forward as it tried to toss me, and then finally found an equilibrium after a couple of stinging swats to my beast's hindquarters.

I think he was more bewildered than anything if the expression on his face was any indication. His eyes rolled up into his head as he tried to peer at me, and I do believe he was frothing at the mouth. I began to wonder if he didn't have more than just a parasite infestation!

"Hmmm, quick, I need to name you! It wouldn't be proper to ride off on one's first mount without a name, after all." I spoke aloud. Its ears pricked at the word "name."

"Beamymof," came a more masculine version of the voice that uttered the high-pitched, girlish shriek earlier. You should know it's not odd for animals to talk. Haven't you conversed with a dragon lately? Or the Great Bear Spirit? Hmmm, probably not. Well, trust me, animals talk.

"Beamy Mof? What kind of name is that? No…I will call you Honey-Bunny-Poozie-Wooziekins. Up, up, and away, Honey-Bunny-Poozie-Wooziekins!" I called to the heavens just in time to give HBPW a good swift kick to the ribs and send him barreling through the regiment of Dwarves trekking up the hill.

And away we went!

I hope everything is fine back home. I miss you all lots and lots, but I'm having an enormous amount of fun here even if I haven't made any friends yet. Tell Mother I will mail her the new spice bread recipe in a few days. I just want to tweak it a bit more yet. I have this idea…

Love,  
Pathia

P.S. Oh! Upon arriving back in Mulgore and being immediately set upon by the braves at Bloodhoof Village, I learned that my so-called mount was actually a space goat (no wonder he looked supernatural, he was alien!) called a Draenei. Unfortunately, I was forced to release him back to the wild. He was a good sport about it though and only knocked me out cold instead of killing me when I finally unsaddled him and shouted, "Be free, Honey-Bunny-Poozie-Wooziekins!"

**_Author's Note_**: I was asked to do this story by request. This did not happen ICly to either toon and is just for fun. I was given permission to godmode Behemothe for this story, so none of it reflects on his potential IC personality or actions or even appearance. This will probably be a lot funnier to those that know Behemothe. The sketch of Runeclaw riding Behemothe in my gallery was drawn to accompany this story.


	5. The Tale of Lomani'taka

_Runeclaw accompanies her story with a simple sign language common to the Shu'halo while relating oral traditions._

Many of you may be familiar with the great kodos Arra'chea who roams Mulgore and Lakota'mani who keeps watch over The Barrens. This is the story of another kodo, Lomani'taka, or Silverhorn.

Lomani'taka aspired to be the strongest, largest, and most beautiful kodo that wandered the plains. As a calf he would boast of how silky his furry hide was in comparison the coarseness of his brethren. Every night he would make the long, arduous climb to the highest peak and bathe in Mu'sha's light.

Her pale beams would sparkle on the tips of his fur like winking stars, and in time, his horn took on a silvery hue that spoke of her gift. "See how the Moon loves me?" he taunted the other young bulls, and they would snort and wander away.

All the most tender grasses and flowers he hoarded for himself, chasing off even the small rabbit and threatening others of his herd if they dared tried to nibble the sweet vegetation. "Begone! These grasses are for my lush fur and broad, straight hooves!" he would shout.

In due course, he had alienated his herd and they refused to offer him protection anymore. "I do not need your protection. I am the mightiest kodo ever to walk these plains," he scoffed as he went to his mountain to meet with Mu'sha.

On this night, however, even she forsook him. A dark cloud lidded her light as she was ashamed of the part she had played in Lomani'taka's vanity. Her grief came down in a dewy mist. She refused to grace him with her light every night thereafter even though he still visited her through the seasons. Finally, he thundered down the mountain one last time, calling his dismay with a low bull-roar. A lone Shu'halo hunter heard this magnificently pained yell and sought out its crier.

What she found was the most amazing kodo she had ever seen. His horn shone like the purest truesilver, his fur thick like down, his eyes the color of pitch, and hooves as broad as a warrior's shield. She stood in stunned silence as she watched the kodo trudge alone across the open field. Where was the herd to protect this beautiful creature? It mattered not to her.

It had been a long, hard winter for her small tribe and soon their food supplies would expire. This beast could feed them all easily, so great was his size. His hide would make blankets and extra tunics for everyone. She tracked him through the dense snow that had bloomed from the near constant rain that had fallen daily through the fall.

She knocked an arrow and offered a prayer to the Earth Mother. "Thank you, Greatmother, for leading me to this kodo. I am sorry to have to kill such a creature, but I hope that you will honor him as my tribe will honor the gift of his hide and meat." She then stilled, fingers tense on the string. Tears rolled off the kodo's proud snout, leaving opalescent icicles fringing his jaw.

The hunter approached Lomani'taka. "Why do you cry so? Are you not the most handsome kodo that roams these plains?" He nodded glumly in response and did not even lift his head to reply. "I was going to kill you. Where is your family? Your herd?" she asked him.

"They have left me for I have been selfish and mean. Even my greatest friend now leaves me in the dark and cries for the hurt I have caused her. I cannot shine without her and I do not want to. Kill me then, hunter. Perhaps I will finally be of some use." The hunter was stunned by this, but as she thought of her own family she realized she had no choice. "I will be swift," she whispered and then drove her spear home.

He sank to his knees in silence without even a last gush of breath. As she murmured a prayer of thanks over his body a strangely warm wind swirled about their forms. The cloud finally lifted away from Mu'sha and her weeping abruptly ceased. The spirit of Lomani'taka rose from his body only to gallop back to the highest peak of the plains.

When he reached it, he called out his sorrow and apology to Mu'sha. For you see, Lomani'taka had finally come to realize that his beauty was empty and that it was not her favor that he missed but her enduring, steadfast friendship. However, the Earth Mother had heard the hunter's prayer and knew his heart had changed. She drew the kodo-spirit into the sky, and his fur once again winked with the silver light of the stars.

_Runeclaw's hands come to a stop and fall gracefully to her side. "And that is the tale of Lomani'taka."_


	6. Taking a Test Run

Runeclaw raced out of the Druid tent at full tilt in her newly mastered cheetah form. She zigged around a Bluffwatcher, zagged between two Forsaken walking across the bridge (who happened to throw an ulna at her tail), and then burst onto the High Rise with a smug kitty grin. She felt absolutely exhilarated! While her usual cat form provided some lightness and increased speed compared to her lumbering bear and equally lumbering Tauren morphs, this new form was like riding the wind to her. She could hardly wait until she was strong enough to actually do that as well!

Her ears flicked in opposite directions as she tried to decide where to go to really give this new form a "test run." She giggled internally at her own pun, and then bounded to the tower ramp with a sour look as she immediately lost control of the form. Grumbling, she stomped over the short curve and came to a stop before Tal, the windrider master.

She stared at him. He stared at her. Neither of them spoke for a long time, but she could hear his teeth grinding and see his jaw working furiously. Finally, she said, "You know, you're going to wear your teeth down to nothing if you keep doing that."

Apparently, this was not the right thing to say as he lunged forward for her. "Look here, girl!" he shouted as onlookers scattered out of the way and tried to avoid falling out of the aerie. Runeclaw hopped nimbly to the side, tripped over the corner of a wyvern nest, and went sprawling behind them. She drug herself under one of their beds and peered out at Tal.

"You look here," she countered, trying to sound stern but only succeeding in making herself giggle again. She cleared her throat. "All I want is a ride to Ashenvale. You don't even have to send me all the way to the shore. You can just point me at that little Orc outpost, and I promise no detours or tar-ball fights and no stranglekelp since I won't be on the shore!" She tried to cross her heart with a finger but only succeeding in banging her elbow off the wooden frame holding the wyvern. It poked its head under at her and hissed. She hissed back.

"Pleeeeeease, Tal? Pretty please? I swear I'll behave this time. Really!" She cocked her head at him sideways from the floor. "Is that grey fur you're getting?" she asked curiously.

Tal roared down at her and she quickly scooted backwards against the far wall as he made a wild grab for her tail. Her eyes darted left and then right as he stalked her around the small area. Bystanders looked on with mixed reactions of laughter and horror at the spectacle unfolding in front of them. Runeclaw made a snap decision and grabbed a wyvern, awkwardly shoving it out of the tower and hopping on its back at the same time.

"I swear! Just going to Ashenvale!" she called back and then ducked low as a wad of wyvern dung sailed past her head. "You need a vacation, Tal!"

It was smooth sailing going north until Runeclaw tried to steer the wyvern towards Splintertree Post. The ornery beast flew right on past and headed west, following the road. Perhaps she was going to visit the shore after all. She shuddered lightly. Those naga creatures gave her the willies. The wyvern pumped his wings and then banked towards Astranaar, the Elven outpost.

"No, no! Bad wyvern! That's for Elves not Tauren!" She tugged on its mane and tried to steer him back on course. This only infuriated the wyvern more and it did an aerial flip that left her tumbling towards the roof of a large building smack in the middle of the little town. She landed with a crushing thud that knocked the wind right out of her and then rolled neatly down the back side of the building to land in some flowering shrubs. She was vaguely aware of some shouting she didn't understand and the pounding of feet on wooden floorboards. The next thing she knew there were Sentinels leaping the short, decorative fence that flanked the open-sided building and bearing down on her en masse.

She leaped to her feet and put her hands out, palms up, in a placating gesture. "I come in peace! By accident!" she protested. They didn't seem to care much about her peaceable visiting, and so, making the best out of the worst as usual, Runeclaw shifted to her brand new travel form and sprinted towards the bridge out of town. She hadn't intended to try out the new ability in quite this fashion, but practice was practice nonetheless! She gave the Elves credit; they were relentless in their pursuit, and every time she veered off the road to avoid them, she ran into another Elf settlement! By the time she made it back to Splintertree Post she had a few arrows lodged in her rump but was overall no worse for the wear. Not one to be easily daunted, she bartered with Vhulgra for a lift back to Thunder Bluff on a very tame wyvern. Apparently, Vhulgra had a history with Tal, something to do with grinding axes from what Runeclaw understood, and she was only too happy to accommodate Runeclaw after hearing the whole sordid history between Tal and the young Druid.

"You be sure to tell him Vhulgra says hello when you get back there." Her smile was all pointy teeth and fangs, and Runeclaw quirked a brow in confusion at the polite sentiment but less than polite expression. Oh well, Orcs were always doing strange things!

As soon as she landed in Thunder Bluff she advanced on Tal. "You did that on purpose!" she accused him.

His grin was smug and self-assured. "I did not expect to see you back so soon from your…trip."

Runeclaw threw up her hands, fingers bunched into fists, and then threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug. "Thank you! That was an amazing adventure! I bet those Elves will be much nicer next time, but they did a great job of helping me learn to run in cheetah form. It was so clever of you to arrange it! I just knew you'd forgive me eventually."

Tal yelped in shock as her arms closed around his neck and then blinked stupidly as her words sunk in. A large hand came up to drag along his muzzle as his eyes rolled up in his head. He pried her arms off him and looked at her sternly.

"Look here, girl, I didn't…" he broke off suddenly as a loud KABOOM rocked the tower.

"Oh gosh! I forgot about that experiment in the lab I was working on!" she cried and then she was gone.


	7. What is it with those Elves?

Dear Kitahl,

I had yet another ill-fated trip to Booty Bay. It seems that Goblin town is destined to be the death of me...literally! This time I was sent there by one of those Gnome things, or maybe it was a Dwarf thing...No, it was definitely a Dwarf. The Gnomes are the bald ones; the Dwarves are the hairy ones. I digress. Anyway! This THING in Shimmering Flats sent me allllll the way to Ratchet and then the wharfmaster sent me to Booty Bay. I admit it; I prowled onto the boat and hid down below until we arrived in Stranglethorn. I ran here, I ran there, and once again I considered using that icky hearthstone to wing me back to Shattrath City in some place called "Outlands." I still haven't been outside that city yet. The warlock who dragged me over there (I think it was on some kind of a bet) just did that eerie Undead laugh thing when I asked him about what was outside. Always a bad sign, that. I digress, again.

I should learn to listen to my instincts. Isn't that what people are always telling me feralness is about? Really, I just like practicing my feral talents because one day I'll get to pounce people silly, and I just know that'll be loads of fun. So, I should have listened to my instincts and used that wretched stone because I was hanging out on the dock, in my cat form and ready to prowl, when suddenly another Druid (Yes! A DRUID!) popped up behind me out of a prowl and knocked me out cold in less hits than I had time to count. I hope those Goblins took a big chunk out of his hide, too! I mean, the rudeness of it all...I would never attack another Druid. It's unthinkable. I just...don't understand, I guess.

Needless to say I was feeling a bit ornery and distressed and not at all my usual cheerful self after this, so I went back to the Flats to give that hairy little human-wannabe a piece of my mind. I ended up just killing a lot of basilisks for a Tauren there at the raceway because you know I really don't like yelling at people. What if I had made him cry? I wonder how long it takes their beards to dry? Anyway, the basilisk killing made me feel somewhat better, and I headed back to Camp Taurajo. Right as I landed I could hear some sort of ruckus traveling across the open plans of Mulgore. I straightaway raced towards Bloodhoof Village as fast as my newly improved cat legs could carry me!

When I got there, do you know what I found? More Elves! Two of them were making a mess in the Warrior's Circle. All those poor young trainees were just lying there either unconscious or too wounded to move and I just...I just felt this odd rage flicker inside. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. I like to believe that when I see someone fighting someone else it's because there's a good reason, but what could those warriors, not even skilled enough to leave Mulgore to go fight, have possibly done to those two Elf hunters? WHAT?

I am not ashamed to say that I quite gleefully chased their sorry carcasses from Bloodhoof Village, around Stonebull Lake, and near an abandoned caravan. I took great pleasure in knocking them both to their knees every chance I got. Another Druid even joined me, although he seemed to enjoy toying with them more than I did. After a time, I did fall as well, but only because I was blinded by my anger and not thinking clearly. I was so intent on yet again mauling the second hunter, after killing the less experienced one, that I forgot to heal myself, and so down I went! Eventually, these two Elves could no longer reap what they had sown by attacking the village and they called in help from a very, very, VERY experienced human. He hurt. He hurt a lot. In fact, I think he actually only even hit me just once, and I still have a headache from that.

After that, the three of them left. Truth be told, if they had tried to use their hearthstones or had run towards The Barrens instead of towards Thunder Bluff, I would have been only too happy to let them leave, but it just didn't work out that way.

Anyway, I have learned a lesson from all this. I have learned that I should always enter a battle with my eyes and heart open. I should leave the rage behind because it does nothing but hold me back from making good decisions. I have learned that Humans in shiny purple armor are nothing to be trifled with! And, finally, I have learned that mixing mageroyal, goldthorn, and grave moss does NOT make for happy Artisan Alchemists because their labs tend to, erm, blow up. At any rate, I have an alchemy lab that I need to help clean up and rebuild, and I think I'll be moving along to train in the Undercity now, whether I like it or not.

How did Mother like the recipe? Has your hunter friend stopped firing arrows at your sorry backside yet? Did Papa catch that 40-pound grouper he's been after for the last 20 years? Are the twins still using their lightning bolts to cook kodo?

I miss you all so much. I wish I had time to come home for a visit or make some friends here.

Love,

Pathia


	8. Finding Family

Runeclaw returned from helping in Arathi Basin with a gasping, "Oh gosh!" as she noted the late hour. She was supposed to be at The Crossroads in just half an hour and here she was dawdling in the Undercity. She grabbed her tokens from the battlemaster and sprinted towards the center of the city. When she reached the bank, she shoved the mixed Gulch and Basin tokens across the counter at the clerk.

"I need the letter I gave you a few days ago," she told the specter that hovered across the counter. She had been practically living in the Undercity this past week as she worked on her budding alchemy skills. She barely even noticed the smell of the eye-poppingly green rivers anymore. Sometimes, she had an itching curiosity to go swimming in there just to see what it was really like.

The letter was eventually delivered into her hand, and Runeclaw muttered something about the dead moving too slow. "Just because they have all the time in the world," she complained as she turned and raced towards the surface of Azeroth.

She arrived at the top of the tower just as the dirigible arrived. For once, things seemed to be going right for her! As she crossed the vast Great Sea, she carefully unfolded the creased parchment and smoothed her fingers over the words scrawled across its surface.

_Please join us this Sunday at noon. We will meet at The Crossroads and proceed to our meeting place from there. Kwam looks forward to meeting you. _

–_Moora, Horns of the Shu'Halo_

Runeclaw read it three more times during the crossing, just to be sure she had every word correct and etched in her mind. She vowed that today she would not let anything "strange" interfere, as per her usual interactions.

She arrived in Orgrimmar and sputtered a cough as the thick smoke from the Orcs' fires assaulted her nose. She batted at some dancing embers and wondered how the Orcs all managed to breathe here. She actually had no trouble at all hitching a ride to The Barrens from the Orcish flightmaster, but she didn't stop to wonder about her good fortune as the beast winged its way towards the open plains.

Upon touching down, she stood stock-still in flaming embarrassment as she noticed Moora nearby with another Shu'halo woman. Their attire was more fitting to the occasion than Runeclaw's own mismatched and heavily battered armor. She absently wished she had thought to pull out some of the more casual clothing that she kept carefully stored at the bank. She was pondering if she had enough time to sneak down to Ratchet to accomplish this when Moora noticed her and approached.

_Ugh, too late._

"Welcome Runeclaw. It is good to see you among us."

"You say that now; let's hope it stays that way!" she responded and then mentally facepalmed. _Brilliant, absolutely brilliant_, she chided herself. _What a way to make a first impression!_

The other woman approached as a male landed. In quick succession, more and more Horns started arriving, and Runeclaw did her best to try to keep track of everyone's names and status. It wasn't an easy task as their numbers grew. She smiled at everyone that arrived, but remained largely silent. She figured as long as she didn't open her mouth, she couldn't make nearly as a big a fool of herself as usual.

In due time, they started north, most of the Horns were mounted, and Runeclaw openly admired a silver-white wolf and ebony raptor that two of the Shu'halo were riding. After climbing a steep mountainside they came to a plateau with a vast view of The Barrens.

"Runeclaw, welcome to Twilight Mesa!" Moora said with a smile.

Others began to kneel as they came to a stop, and Runeclaw dropped to one knee in her best imitation. She felt a little lost with the unfamiliar rites and gestures but felt she was muddling through just fine for the moment. After a brief blessing, Kwam lit a fire and several tribal matters were discussed. Runeclaw felt a bit like an interloper. After all, she was not a member of their tribes. However, she also felt a sense of pride and kinship that they would trust her enough already to allow her to attend this meeting and listen to their points of business.

And then it was time…a large Druid approached her. "Rise young one. We have much to discuss."

She followed him, Moora, the woman from The Crossroads (who she had learned was Walksfar), and one more Druid across the mesa. There was a slight bit of easing to the tightness in her throat as she realized she would be interviewed by all Druids. Surely, they could understand her!

"Tell me about yourself young druid. I want to know who you are and what you plan to do with the life that the Earthmother has given you," the male spoke.

"Hmm, where to start? My name is Pathia Wildmane, but the Elders of my tribe gave me the name Runeclaw at the ceremony marking my adulthood. I confess I do not have any concrete plans for my future. The majority of Azeroth is new to me and I am enjoying exploring it and meeting new people. I would like to explore more and make friends and...do what's right."

The four Druids nodded in turn at her words and then took turns introducing themselves. She was pleased to learn that Moora followed the path of balance and Lomani was a healer. Since Runeclaw had never known any but feral Druids, she looked forward to learning more about the other aspects of a Druid's nature from them later. She was surprised to learn that Kalkervic, the large male, was actually an Elder of the Wildmane within the Horns. Runeclaw's mind flashed back to all the things that happened "accidentally" to the Elders of her own Wildmane tribe and grimaced briefly. Hopefully, she wouldn't be setting him on fire anytime soon.

Kalkervic asked, "What about us drew you near? Why are you interested in bearing the tabard of the Shu'halo?"

Runeclaw pondered a moment before replying. "Wellllll, it all started really when I saw Moora here in Thunder Bluff talking with some folks. I didn't know who she was but found out later after a loretelling when I met Rupa. She spoke to me of the Horns and Moora. Good friends seem to be in short supply here these days." She realized she was sort of babbling, as she tends to when nervous, and just grinned lopsidedly.

"My final question, before you may ask us anything you like. What ways of the druid do you follow, and will you use your talents to the best of your ability, to bring honor and glory to the Horns?"

Runeclaw perked up eagerly at the question. "Oh! I'm feral through and through! My mother said it started when I bit an Elder on the hock during his visit after my birth, but my father swears it was because I shredded all their tunics once."

The assembly laughed in good humor as a sheepish look crept across Runeclaw's muzzle. "And yes, I will do my best to bring honor to the Horns."

"Excellent!" Kalkervic stated. "Rise young one! You ladies as well, if you please. We are all on hoof now; we are equal. Ask us anything you wish."

Runeclaw pondered this as well and then recalled having to "prove her worth" to a lorekeeper in Thousand Needles. She wondered if all tribal associations had such rigorous initiation rituals. "You're not going to make me jump off a cliff like the lorekeeper in Needles, are you?" she finally dared to ask.

"I will not."

Runeclaw nodded to herself. "I'm good then! You all seem very nice and supportive and, well, a family."

Walksfar spoke up next, "You've stated what you intend to bring to the Horns, but what do you expect from us in return?"

Runeclaw opened her mouth and then shut it and then opened it again. "Hrm, hadn't really considered that, honestly. That sense of family, I guess. I miss mine," she admitted, already thinking ahead to a letter she would write to her brother later.

"A feeling I can relate."

Kalkervic put a strong arm around Runeclaw. "A sister you shall be, young one. We must wait on the chief now; when he calls, we will return."

They waited quite a long time after that as there was a young warrior being interviewed as well. Some general discussion followed as well as some impressive dueling.

At one point Lomani ventured, "So, what happened after you shredded the tunics?"

Runeclaw noticed the others listening intently for her answer and scuffed her hoof a moment. "They made me tan a whole week's worth of skins and fashion new tunics for the entire village. I swore I'd never do leatherworking again."

A round of laughter followed before Kalkervic responded, "What trades did you take to then?"

"Oh, did you happen to hear that explosion in Thunder Bluff the other day? I hope not...but anyway, that would have been my little alchemy experiment exploding. I, um, mix potions." She then learned who to talk to in order to gain more insight into her "experiments."

As they waited and waited, Moora decided a fire was in order. Unfortunately, she lit it right on top of Runeclaw's hooves.

"Beware!" Kalkervic warned with a shout as Runeclaw scooted out of the way. "Moora, do you intend to set her ablaze?"

"Sorry Runeclaw!" Moora immediately apologized. "My fire skills are a little erratic."

Runeclaw laughed with her characteristic good nature. "My pants will match my singed tail! Perfect!"

Finally, they were called back to the circle and Runeclaw was asked to stand by the fire with the other recruit.

Kwam spoke, "We have one final question for the two of you." Chawanass and Runeclaw waited expectantly for him to continue. "Will you wear these tabards with pride and honor as members of Horns of the Shu'halo?"

As they both agreed, a tabard was handed to her. She didn't even stop to admire the beauty of the rich, earthy brown or the sky-colored border before she began to tug it on over her head. Naturally, it became caught on one of her horns, and she struggled while half-inside the cloth to lever it loose without ripping it. With a relieved sigh, she slid it down over her head and onto her shoulders. She smoothed the fabric down and then let out a whooping cheer! She was now Horns of the Shu'halo!


	9. Runeclaw Gets a Mount (for real)

Runeclaw stood for a long time in the small corral holding the riding wolves while trying to decide between the ash-colored dire wolves or the burnished auburn of the timber wolves. She liked the way the latter matched her own spotty coat. The riding trainer merely rolled his eyes and sighed at her occasionally as she remained motionless aside from the constant back-and-forth flickering of her eyes between the choices.

"It's just been such an exciting evening," she finally said aloud. The trainer glanced over his shoulder and then shook his head as he realized she was talking to the wolves. The animals cocked their ears forward as her soft voice floated towards them. "First, I finally earned the ability to control my stronger dire bear form," she went on with a meaningful look at the dire wolf. "Then I was told that I was now considered worthy to get my own riding mount, so of course I came here to talk to these guys." She gave her chin a small toss towards her shoulder to indicate the trainers behind her. "But they told me I hadn't proved myself enough to Orgrimmar yet, so I went back out to do more errands. I was up all night, and there were some very rude Alliance in Stranglethorn Vale. I think they must send all their criminals there."

She unconsciously picked up the tail end of a braid and began chewing on it as her gaze shifted back to the timber wolf. Around the tuft of hair she continued her narrative to the beasts. "I was up half the night but didn't achieve my goal, so I went out again today and worked even harder…and guess what? I did it! So, here I am trying to decide the best way not to have to run anymore when my legs are tired." She grinned crookedly and then gave an apologetic glance to the brown wolves. "Sorry guys, but my heart is set on one of these guys…but which one?" She gave a sigh of her own as the great animals shook their thick pelts as if to say, "We don't know either!"

**KORINSHINA (TROLL PRIEST-SHADOWTUSK)**

A passing troll strolling down the avenue had a brief moment to pause and stare. Orgrimmar wasn't particularly known for stability, but most erred on keeping odd tendencies private. "…and guess what? I did it! So, here I am trying to decide the best way not to have to run anymore when my legs are tired."

The words were spoken by a petite tauren woman with a pretty voice. Korinshina had heard that tauren often did nature-ly things on their spare time apart from the battlefield. She supposed this fit in with that category, but hadn't met too many tauren off the battlefield. She didn't particularly meet many people off the battlefield. Slightly depressing for what could be a very social troll, but nothing to brood over. "Sorry guys, but my heart is set on one of these guys…but which one?"

The milling wolves, apparently tame (though she never truly trusted a furry creature, herself), only stared mutely up at the hoofed tauren. Korinshina couldn't help but wonder if the wolves privately considered tauren to be evolved prey. Wolves made her only slightly uneasy. Just slightly. She veered away from the pen and by happenstance caught sight of the tauren's tabard. It made sense that of course this would be one of her allies. Her new allies. She herself was yet junior to the ways of the Shadowtusks, and the idea of having allies was yet. . .mind boggling. Still, more for the hunt could mean more fun.

"Ja be trustin' da furry ones?" The words were out before she could choke them back, and she stared at the tauren as her mind reeled with the realization that she had potentially erred. Okay, so social scenes weren't particularly her comfort zone, and if she was a little bit awkward, well, who would correct her? She remained rooted to the spot, facing the tauren from the other side of the pen. She tried a smile, unsure how the tauren would take the sudden contact, allies or not.

Awkward indeed.

**ROLINS (UNDEAD MAGE)**

Deidrick Rolins sat against a large boulder, the sun beating down on him.

"Too hot to do anything productive" he thought to himself as he raised is hands creating and ice barrier around him.

"Ahhhhhhhh better" he said with great relief in his voice.

He had been observing the wolf pen for a while. A Tauren female had been there and she seemed to be deep in thought, peering at the wolves carefully. He could not hear what she said but it was obvious that she was speaking to the wolves and even more curious was the fact that they seemed to understand what she was trying to communicate to them. Rolins sat still, completely intrigued by this encounter. He found it so curious... this connection the Tauren seemed to have with nature. He had heard stories of the shamans and druids among the people of Cairne but he had never seen any of it.

"Taurens talking to wolves... am I crazy, or are they?" He thought to himself. "Ah well, will never know if I don't find out..." Rolin stood up slowly and made his way towards the pen.

**RUNECLAW**

"Ja be trustin' da furry ones?"

Runeclaw stopped gnawing her bedraggled braid long enough to gape slack-jawed at the wolves. "Wow! I thought you guys would sound more Orcish," she mused aloud before a movement caught the edge of her vision and she noticed the Troll. The woman was wearing an expression that comprised mostly of baring her tusks, and it took Runeclaw a moment to puzzle out that she was being smiled at. She immediately smiled back as recognition dawned across her face.

"I know you! Well, sort of…You and Mordecai sure did whump Kwam's and Saprophyte's tails in the arena last week!" Her hand flew to her cover her mouth with a gasp. "I mean, you fought with honor and skill?" she tried again.

She didn't know many Trolls, but there was a Tauren in Horns that had been raised by Trolls, and he sure was strange and somewhat broody from what she had seen so far, so she didn't want to offend this one. "And you kept me company in Booty Bay when I was hiding from those purple-skinned, long-eared brats. Every time I go there I swear they think I'm wildlife that got loose in the city and try to kill me. I mean, honestly, how many horned lions do you see in Stranglethorn," she went on, barely pausing to take a breath before starting up again. "Then again, maybe that's it! They think I'm some kind of rare animal that the goblins would pay buckets for…"

There was a very brief pause as Runeclaw considered that aspect and then she launched into a totally different tangent of thought without giving the Troll time enough to recover from the first spilling of words.

"Don't _you_ trust them?" she queried, getting back on track, finally. "I've seen those big raptors some Trolls ride around on, and I have to say that they seem like 75% claws and teeth, 15% tail, and," she stopped to count softly to herself, "and 10% food. They seem a lot less trustworthy than these cute fluffballs." She punctuated her statement by hugging the dire wolf around the neck which set the beast to prancing on his toes. One would almost swear there was an audible sigh of relief from the great wolf when she released him.

"Then again, we Wildmane have always been good with beasts. Even my brother managed to tame a companion, and let me tell you, that's really somethin' because he's a real pain in the…" she trailed off as a Forsaken wandered in their direction. She gave him her usual crooked smile as well, although it was more wary than the one she had returned to the Troll. If there was one thing she had learned, it was that Forsaken were extremely unpredictable and seemed to be either very nice or very nasty.

**BILQUIS (TROLL PRIEST-WORLD ABLAZE)**

A shy troll approaches the gathering group. She pulls at her dress nervously, and seems to struggle with the language.

She clears her throat, "A'cuse me. You be...wantin' a friend, yes? I be wonderin' why you so far away from de home in de plains? Me friend..." BIlquis stops and scrunches up her face to get a word out then sighs, "she be like you der, wit' da horns, yes? And she be like you wit de bear, yes? Her friend is not raptor, four feet."

Bilquis face lights up and blurts out, "KODO!" Bilquis claps with glee, "Yes! Kodo! Kodo name 'Pixie' cuz friend tink dat funnah for big beast. But Pixie ner'evah let friend down. Pixie been wit friend tru er-dee-ting. PIxie carry friend when friend could no carry self, too much blood and PIxie ner'er refuse, ne'er spook. Pixie always der for friend. Pixie steal punkins and peaches dough. Friend could ne'er leave punkins in pack else packs be torn da bits and kodo be all smiles."

Bilquis shakes her head, "Friend also 'ave white wolf, like dis. Shunshine. She be nice too. Shunshine very, very fast, and.." Bilquis holds her fingers up to her mouth like large fangs and growls, then laughs. "Pixie not scary, nono." "Shunshine carry friend tru many, many wars in da Valley, yes? Shunshine, she get 'ot dough. Friend take Shunshine to...lava place. Shunshine, she whine and pant."

Bilquis smiles, "I not say any friend bad. Nono, friend find you, friend carry you, friend wit you all times. What-evah dey look like, dey your friend"

Bilquis approaches one to the wolves and reaches out a thin a hand. The wolf's nose takes a whiff, then sneezes. A paw comes up as if to rub the scent away, and a head shake dislodges the last. "Tee hee. See? No wolf for me, no."

"Friend very impor'ant. You take time, no rush, friend wait."

Bilquis gently bows to all, and gives a small wave, "I let you talk to all friends now. Dey have lots to say!"

**RUNECLAW**

Runeclaw's left eyebrow shot up, followed by the right, and then they both came down with a bewildered look. At the word "kodo," Runeclaw's ears perked forward, happy to at least understand one thing the young woman was getting at. Her expression continued from baffled to slightly amused to downright delighted as the Troll proceeded to ramble on in a manner in which Runeclaw found a kinship. She knew she had a tendency to babble on at times, particularly when nervous or excited, but she hadn't met very many people who shared this "quirk."

Runeclaw's lips moved along silently repeating everything the other woman was saying as she muddled her way through the thick accent. "Kodo are ugly," she blurted out at one point and then slapped her hand over her mouth yet again to silence it. When she thought she had the gist of what was being said, she nodded at Bilquis and a grin split her muzzle.

Bilquis gave a little wave and bow, and Runeclaw raised her free hand and gave her a little finger-wave in return. She blinked once and lowered the hand across her lips. "You have lots to say, too!" she called out as the woman made to leave. Runeclaw's hand came back up swiftly to smack herself in the forehead. "I didn't mean… Oh fel!"

**KORINSHINA**

Korinshina had opened her mouth to reply. Had, and had shut it. The oriface opened once more before snapping shut under the deluge of words. It was odd, for within the (relative) safety of the 'Tusks she was more than capable of making herself be known and heard. She might even be considered bossy by some of the rather (un)lucky trolls to have fallen under the presumed motherly spread of her wings, so to speak. Yet here she was away from her kin, and without a touch of drink to bring her reeling composure back under the sure pressure of her heel.

So instead she settled for nodding at some inane point, vaguely wondering what the rambling was about. Once the words fell into an uncomfortable silence, Korinshina saw fit to address one point: "Raptas be guardin' ja back." She stared down at the wolves, who looked back under her steady regard. She shrugged at them, helpless to offer an opinion on such an alien species. She looked belatedly at Runeclaw, studying the other, and with hasty discourse answered a previous question.

"Ya, ya, I be seein' ja in da Vale at da 'Rena!" Recognition was late in coming, and beyond that the troll was uncertain which niceties were in order. She wasn't particularly accustomed to niceties.

**EPINROSE (UNDEAD WARLOCK-ELDERS OF LORDAERON)**

Epinrose had been traveling in the hot sun of Durotar for quite sometime now. At her side was her Voidwalker, Charzazt. She turned to him, "Char, it seems to be very hot out today. Good thing I'm no longer living, or I'd have been dead a mile ago!" As she laughed at what _she_ thought was a funny comment, Charzazt turned to her and replied, "I do not feel heat. I do not feel air. I only feel-" Epinrose interrupted his monotone speech, "Yah yah, chill out. I was only making a comment!" "Yes, Epinrose."

As they continued their journey, they came across a small party, comprised of two Trolls and a Taurnen female. From Epinrose's vantage point, it seems the Tauren said something that offended the Trolls. "Damn," Epinrose started to say to Charzazt, "I wish I could hear what's going on! Look! The Tauren just covered her mouth! The Trolls are gonna kill her for sure!" Epinrose grinned in excitement at the prospect of a fight. Charzazt's expression didn't change, save for the rolling of his eyes at Epinrose's comment. "Come, Char! We're going to get a bit closer to the Wolf Pen."

Epinrose and her companion walked towards the Wolf Pen, spotting one of her own in the distance. "Hmm...one of my Forsaken brothers is also investigating this." Charzazt let out a sigh, "Epinrose, I do not think there is a scuffle." Epinrose glared at her Voidwalker. Her eyes narrowed, and her voice gained a malicious tone, "Shut up before I send you back to the Void!" Epinrose gained three steps before her companion replied, "As you wish." The two continued their approach. As they continued to walk towards the Pen, Epinrose waved at her Forsaken brother.

**FIFFET (GNOME WARLOCK-The Council of Light)**

A large robot slowly walked down the dirt road. "Goblinbot, Goblinbot!" It grated monotonously. A goblin was perched on top of it, prodding at different keys and such on it. It trundled past various people, just continuing on it's way. When it passed the wolf pen, the wolves all perked up and stared fixedly at the robot. "Goblinbot, Gooobbbbbbbllliiiiinnnnnnn..." The machine rumbled, shook, and then fell over. The goblin on it's back never moved, except for his head rolling off and landing at the tauren's feet. The head was fake.

**EPINROSE**

As Epinrose and Charzazt continued to approach the Trolls and Tauren, they witnessed a Goblin riding on top of a strange machine, the likes of which Epinrose was not at all familiar with. Epinrose noticed how the Wolves had perked up when the Goblin and his robot walked by. "This is most curiousss" Charzazt said, his arm outstretched and pointing at the Goblin. "Yes, I know"

As Epinrose complete her sentence, her and her Voidwalker witnessed the head of the Goblin fall off. "Well, that's strange..." Epinrose said. Epinrose had noticed a boulder nearby. "Quickly, behind this boulder!" The two crouched behind the boulder. "Charzazt," Epinrose began, "Meld with the shadows and investigate what's going on there." Charzazt nodded and became one with shadows.

Charzazt shadow hopped his way towards the "Goblin" and robot. It only took Charzazt less than one minute to shadow hop his way over, scout out what happened, and shadow hopped back to Epinrose. "Mistress, it seems that the Goblin is really a Gnome in disguise." Epinrose clawed at the boulder in frustration. Quickly rising to her feet, Epinrose said, "We must warn them!"

Running out from behind the boulder, Epinrose called out "That's no Goblin! It's a Gnome in disguise!" Epinrose was till a good distance away, and was unsure if her calls were heard. Epinrose and Charzazt sped up towards the Wolf Pen.

**RUNECLAW**

(( RP or GTFO, Hunny-Bunny-Poozie-Woozie-Kins! :) ))

Runeclaw seemed pleased when Korinshina remembered her as well. "I'm Pathia but everyone calls me Runeclaw or 'Hey You' or 'Girl,' but I think 'Girl' has to be precede by 'look here' because that's how people always say it—'look here, girl.'" Runeclaw stopped abruptly as she became aware she was doing it again. She cleared her throat self-consciously.

"Do you have a raptor?" she asked. "One day I'd like to get me one those big ol' black ones when I'm strong enough to go to that Outlands place. I think they are the only ones big enough to hold the likes of me." She stopped herself short this time and even managed to keep herself from going off on a tangent when she was suddenly presented with a clanking green ball with pointy ears jutting out from the crown. She did however pick it up and roll it over in her palm. Laughter bubbled up as she looked it over.

"Wonder if this got loose from Nogg," she murmured, mostly to herself. After all, she had just delivered those blueprints from Gnomeregan to him not very long ago and his shop was just around the corner. She looked up then as yet another Forsaken came charging towards them with a demon trailing behind. She seemed rather excited about something.

Runeclaw caught the word "Gnome" and waved the head in the air at the warlock. "No, it's Goblin!" she shouted and then peered at it more closely as if double-checking. "Yep! Goblin! See? It's green!"

**EPINROSE**

Continuing their sprint, Epinrose and Charzazt saw that the Tauren was waving the head in the air. Luckily for the Forsaken warlock and her companion, they were now in earshot, and had heard the Tauren call out, "No, it's Goblin!" Epinrose let out a sigh as she watched the Tauren inspect the head, "Yep! Goblin! See? It's green!"

Epinrose's eye widened as she realized that the Tauren had not heard her warning. "I know the time is inappropriate," the Voidwalker began in his demonic, monotone voice, "but those three were clearly not arguing, nor were they going to fight." Epinrose had heard the comment, but was more concentrated on making sure that the three knew that they were in danger of an attack.

"No, Tauren!" Epinrose called out, her hands folded near her mouth so that her voice would be amplified. "That's a costume head! Quickly, look behind you!" As Epinrose ran, her right hand began to draw in a dark purple and green energy. "Char, go! They may need you." As Charzazt went ahead of Epinrose, the energies surrounding her right hand began to condense. She held her arm in front of her, her fingers slighlty bent. Suddenly, a bolt of shadow energy shot from her hand towards the Gnome.

((On that note, how to Voidwalker move? Like, when I wanted him to speed up, i didn't know if I should have said "floated" or "ran" or what haha))

**ROLINS**

Rolins stood there at the pen. A few people from various factions had now gathered round and he became intrigued in their interactions with one another. He had always found it odd that relationships between many of the other factions of the horde were very strained. He felt proud that despite the fact that many of his people were from various backgrounds and had many stories to them, they were all united as one people.

And as he sat there and observed the ones who had gathered round, he wondered why they acted so odd around each other.

"Curious..." he said, as he looked at them all and then back at the wolves again.

**FIFFET**

The machine slowly tilted, it seemed as if something was attempting to get out. As the crowds of people around it were scrambling about, the head's eyes opened and it began talking... But in a gnome's voice. "Greetings! If this recorded message is playing, my robot spy has failed and is attempting to self-destruct. I would warn you all to evacuate the city you're in, as the explosion is quite forceful." There was a pause, then, "Anyways, I hope you enjoy rebuilding your city like we gnomes must rebuild ours! So long!" The robot continued moving, slowly moving faster and faster, until it's arms were spinning like windmills.

((Meh... This doesn't feel like my best work ever.))

**RUNECLAW**

(( Sorry for delay, you know how weekends are! Epinrose – how about "effervesced?" *grin* ))

Runeclaw's head gave a disbelieving shake as the Forsaken woman went on about Gnomes and now something about costumes. _Aren't costume parties in the fall?_ Unfortunately for Epinrose, Runeclaw's propensity for misunderstanding a situation was in full force as a simple trip to pick out a wolf was, as usual, turning into a full-scale "situation." Runeclaw might have stopped to wonder about the probability of such things always happening to one individual except that her concentration was fully on the warlock charging towards her.

"Quickly, look behind you!" Runeclaw's head half-turned and then caught sight of the coalescence of shadow energy in the warlock's hand.

"Oh, I am _so_ not falling for _that_ trick again," Runeclaw muttered with determination. Obviously, this was one of the "not nice" Forsaken who trying to smack her with that shadowbolt by using distraction! Runeclaw took the only action she had available to her and lobbed the goblin robot's head at Epinrose, hoping to at least muck up her concentration if nothing else.

As it sailed through the air towards Epinrose, a mechanical voice floated across the gathered assembly. "Greetings! If this recorded message is playing, my robot spy has failed and is attempting to self-destruct…"

"Huh, that doesn't sound promising. Guess it really was Gnomish after all," Runeclaw said to the wolves and Korinshina. The wolves flatted their ears back and low growls emanated from their throats as the robot's arms begin their maniacal swirling. The hackles of their necks rose and Runeclaw finally noticed the rest of the robot.

"Huh, that doesn't _look_ promising, either." Her blasé demeanor might have seemed odd to most, but considering how often these sorts of things seemed to happen to her, she was taking it in her usual stride. "Everyone out of the pool!" she shouted. "Er, everyone who doesn't have an engineering card, that is! Someone get that good for nothing Gobling, Nogg…Hey wait, I'm someone! I'll get him!"

Runeclaw vaulted onto the back of the nearest wolf, an amber and white timber whose coat matched hers with startling clarity right down to the briars in its fur.

"Look here, girl! You need to pay for that!" the Orc shouted.

Runeclaw gave Korinshina a glance as if to say "I told you so" before she called back. "I'm just borrowing it, I swear!" She spurred the beast down the hill towards the Goblins around the corner.

**KORINSHINA**

Korinshina had been speechless. She'd had the intention to speak, several times, but each time her mouth had opened and snapped shut with the movement one might normally associate with fish. _This_ was the reason she preferred the wilds to cities; there were just too many weird people around. And there were those who called her people names. . .well, stuff like this wasn't likely to happen in troll villages!

"Greetings! If this recorded message is playing, my robot spy has failed and is attempting to self-destruct…"

_I really should have stayed in Stranglethorn_.

It was Runeclaw's grip of the wolf and her quick action that snapped Korinshina out of her stunned posture. With a quick glance back at the orc, who was running after Runeclaw, she too put a leg up on one of the wolves. She grimaced at the feel of the fur (entirely too unnatural), and turned the obedient, gentle (for now) wolf towards the direction Runeclaw was going.

Those left behind would hear a stream of words that floated in her wake: "I don' be wantin' ta be 'splodeeeeeed!" The last word trailed into a screech as the woman struggled to stay on the mount. Wolves were, after all, a much different ride than the raptors she was so accustomed to.

**FIFFET**

As the people in the area cleared out, the robot slowly, laboriously began to fly. It zoomed up and up, until it was on top of a nearby building. Once their, a compartment on the rear of the machine opened a Fiffet tumbled out. "Whew... Glad my bluff worked. Now to make it seem as though there was a botched explosion." Fiffet shoved his robot over the edge and dropped around 20 sticks of dynamite on it. After checking trajectories and estimated explosion force, he lobbed an active flame turret at the mess and hunched down as it exploded.

***Whumpf* **

Fiffet calmly got out his disguise kit and began painting his face and changing his posture so he'd look more like a goblin and less like a genius.

**RUNECLAW**

Runeclaw's mount bounced down the hill and headed straight for the pond at the bottom. "No, no! Other way, other way!" she shouted, waving one hand to the left as if that could force the wolf in that direction.

"Not the pond!" Ogunaro, the kennel master, cried waving his arms overhead as he tried to keep up the chase.

The wolf hit the water with tongue-lolling excitement and skidded across the shallow pond. A geyser of water arced towards those on the small dock and sloshed across the bystanders, soaking them from the knees on down. With a double-bark of what could only be canine glee, the animal suddenly changed direction and headed towards Nogg's Machine Shop. Runeclaw looked back over her shoulder, giggling helplessly even as irate epithets floated over the valley. It seemed to her like the beast had always wanted to give that little maneuver a try.

The wolf stopped short of the door to the Goblins' shop, and Runeclaw hopped off and darted inside. Without preamble she scooped up Nogg and his assistant Sovik and ran back out with one Goblin under each arm.

"What the-! Kid, you better put us down right now, or else!" Nogg threatened.

"Aha! Now I have you!" Ogunaro huffed as he finally caught up to the duo.

She struggled back onto her wolf with two now uncooperative Goblins. "But you have to save Orgrimmar! There's this thing that's going to explode and its arms are waving and head came off, but I swear that wasn't my fault, and then it started talking and someone else said it was a Gnome but it definitely had—"

Nogg cut her off. "Gnome! Why didn't you say so? We'll fix it real good, won't we, Sovik." The two exchanged a look that would have made anyone paying attention run for safety.

As the wolf double-jumped back into the wolf pen area Runeclaw toppled off, having finally lost the grip she was keeping with her knees. She looked around and then noticed the large charred spot and the new sunny alcove that had been blown into a surrounding wall.

"Huh, guess we're too late, but it hardly took out the entire city," she mused aloud. She plunked the Goblins down, and they took off to explore the crater left in Orgrimmar's stony floor. The timber wolf padded up next to Runeclaw and stared off in the same direction before nudging her shoulder with his muzzle. She absently lifted a hand to scratch him behind the ears as she watched the Goblins start to dissect the rubble.

"Aha! wheeze _Now_ I puff have you…" Ogunaro tried once more. He doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees and gulping deep breaths. "Shouldn't've ate that…bear steak…and scorpid surprise…" he gasped out.

Runeclaw and the wolf exchanged a glance and a smile. She dug into her small coin pouch and carefully counted out several gold pieces. "Here you go, Orc. I know I said I was just borrowing him, but I think I'd like to keep this one after all. He's going to be great fun; I can tell."

She pressed the coins into his palm and then climbed back onto her new mount's back. "Now I just need to think of a name for you. How do you feel about Honey-Bunny-Poozie-Woozie-Kins?" she could be heard to ask as they wandered off towards The Drag.

_**Author's**** Note**_**:** This was an open RP on the Ravenholdt forums. All other participants are flagged as noted in the story for their contributions.


	10. Double the Trouble

Runeclaw paused in front of the larger-than-life portal and curled back her lip. "Easy there, Amarok," she said softly while reaching down to pat the bristling fur on her wolf's neck. "I don't like the smell of this place either, but Kitahl wanted to meet here. Always one for the dramatic, he is," she continued. The sound of her own voice and the steady deep breathing of her mount helped to calm her nerves.

"Maybe we should go back and lure that dragon we saw down here as a surprise gift." Amarok flatted his ears back and chuffed stubbornly as she tried to turn him back towards The Blasted Lands. "Sissy," she chuckled affectionately.

Just then the surface of the looming gate rippled and Runeclaw tensed in anticipation. It had been a long time since she had seen her brother, longer than she cared to admit. At first he had stayed in their village, continuing to hunt and help care for tribe. As more and more of her letters found their way to his hands though, he began to hunger to see more of the world she spoke of, to meet the same people, and eventually, he had surpassed even her hard work and went to explore Outlands. She hadn't heard much from him at all since he had went to a place called Hellfire Peninsula, but when a letter arrived last week asking her to meet him here, she could hardly refuse. She slid off Amarok's back and braced herself, expecting the worst.

The worst it was, too, as a vicious green ravager erupted the portal. Green saliva drooled from its mouth in sticky strands as it skittered towards the pair. A loud chittering cry emitted from it, and the pitch of it sent Amarok running for cover without so much as a warning whine. Runeclaw braced herself as the creature's locomotion caused it to barrel into her with bone-jarring impact. The duo went toppling horned head over spiny legs and came to rest halfway down the ramp that led to the portal, with Runeclaw squarely pinned beneath the beast. Its jaws continued the rapid chitter-squawking as it loomed over her. A tendril of slime hung precariously, in danger of breaking off and dripping over Runeclaw's nose at any moment.

"Eugh! Cuddles get off me, you disgusting vermin!" Runeclaw yelled, trying to shove the ravager off as it gave equal effort to drowning her in drool of adoration. "I can't believe he hasn't traded you in on something less…icky," she muttered, finally wrestling herself loose from her brother's noxious companion. Cuddles had been with Kitahl from the very start after her brother had managed to "bullheadedly" gain access to some long-forgotten Elf island that was now crawling with these things.

"Now why would I want to do that?" chuckled a familiar voice.

Runeclaw turned and launched herself at her brother, smearing the front of his mail with his pet's drool as he caught her with ease. He hadn't changed very much over the months they had been apart. He was still just as rag-tag as she and still much bigger. She had been secretly hoping she would hit a growth spurt of some kind and catch up. She hugged him tightly, not having realized how much she had missed him until that moment he stood in front of her. When the embrace ended she punched him squarely in the midsection. A guttural "whoof" came from Kithal as he doubled over and glared up at her.

"What the fel!"

"That's what you get for sending that thing out here first!" she fired back.

Their eyes locked in a competitive gaze that can only be shared between siblings. It held, neither of them daring to break the contact, and then they both dissolved in laughter.

"You haven't changed a bit, Kitahl," she smirked. "Still sending the wee beastie in first, ya big sissy."

Her brother straightened and wrinkled his nose. He was a good head taller than her and perhaps broader than she recalled. "Don't call me that, _Pathia_," he replied gruffly, although his eyes shown with warmth as he looked down at her.

She shrugged nonchalantly in response to his taunt. "I don't mind my name. I don't know why you mind yours so much."

"The Elders chose our names for us for a reason. It would do them dishonor not to use them," he replied in the "I'm-older-than-you-and-know-better" tone that she hated.

"Oh please, they were probably so overjoyed when you left the village that they likely threw a grand feast to celebrate it. Tell me, _Flinthoof_, did you set anything on fire that week? How about lodging some shot in an Elder's backside? What about…" she paused and gawked at him a moment. "Where's your GUN?!"

Flinthoof scratched the back of his neck and shifted his eyes guiltily as his free hand fingered the shaft of the crossbow at his back. "There's just no good ones out there," he explained, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "I had to, you know, trade it in for something with more oompf."

"Oompf," she repeated stupidly, still not believing he was without his "boomstick."

"Yeah, oompf," he repeated defensively. "It's not so easy out there, little sister. You have to take what they give you and make the best of it. There're only so many limited resources."

"Don't call me little. You're only eight minutes older."

Flinthoof rolled his eyes and then placed a big hand on her head, ruffling her mane into more disarray than usual. She swatted at his arm and then gave him a tickling poke to the armpit when he wouldn't stop. His arm clamped down to his side like a vice. "Don't do that!" he thundered, eyes darting around the barren landscape as if someone might have seen.

She smirked broadly this time and then took his hand. "I am glad to see you, Brother," she said sincerely. She gave a little whistle, calling Amarok out from his hiding place, although he was slow in joining them. Obviously, Cuddles was making the great wolf more than a little nervous. The group walked to a nearby outcropping of rocks and sat in small bundle.

"You will be journeying to Outlands soon," Flinthoof stated flatly. Runeclaw nodded at him, knowing she was not far off from being strong enough to handle whatever happened to be out there. "I wanted to talk to you about what to expect. You know that I will be waiting for you there, strong enough to take care of you…if you should need," he added quickly, seeing his sister's face screw up for an argument. He knew she prided herself on her strength and self-sufficiency.

"You'll have to be tough out there, Runeclaw. You can't be all namby-pamby and bleeding heart like you've always been. Let me finish," he said firmly when she opened her mouth to argue. "The Alliance out there are only part of the problem. I know you haven't had many problems with them on Azeroth, but let me tell you something. That place, Outlands, it gets into your blood. It infects your senses. Everyone is as bloodthirsty as those damned demons, and you better be ready to rip anything that moves apart if it so much as blinks at you. Do you hear me, Runeclaw? _Anything_."

Runeclaw just stared at her brother. Something had changed after all. He had always been the tough one, the one quicker to anger and slower to forgive, but now she could sense the hate and rage flowing through him almost undiluted. Underneath it all, she saw that his concern for her well-being was absolute, and she loved him all the more for it.

"I understand," she said softly, more to placate him than because she believed that things were actually that bad beyond the portal. She didn't want to argue with him about these kinds of things when finally getting to see him again after so long. He stood up then with a nod and started back towards the portal. "Wait! Where are you going?" she cried chasing after him.

For a moment, she was a child again running to keep up with her twin who had always been stronger, faster, bigger, more agile. She blinked back the tears that sprang to her eyes as she reached out for him, hating the "little girl" quality that laced her words as she called for him to wait for her. As her brother reached the portal, the past and present superimposed upon each other and he turned back with a wink. "I'll see you again soon, little sister."

And then he was gone.


	11. Outlands at Last

Runeclaw patted her mount's newly armored neck and eyed the spiked collar. "I dunno, Amarok, I think all this junk just weighs you down and takes the edge off how fast you could really go." The ruddy-colored wolf had trained right alongside her, day in and day out, and he was able to move quite a bit quicker than she had first obtained him. The Orcs in Orgimmar had insisted he wear this ridiculously oversized spiky collar along with some new bits of armor that just made her wolf look silly, in her opinion.

Off to her left, General Krakork continued to inform his line of troops of how miserable their lives were going to be. Runeclaw rolled her eyes once as the litany of being sent home to in a body bag to one's "mommy" once again spewed from the General. She was amazed that the recruits continued to be impressed with this threat given the abundance of spirit healers here in Outlands. She turned and stuck out her tongue at the back of Krakork's head, causing several of the men to choke on a laugh.

"Get back to work, girl!" Krakork interjected before continuing with his bleak assessment of life in Hellfire Penninsula.

Runeclaw chuckled and nudged Amarok forward into the center of Thrallmar. She hadn't seen Flinthoof in the last two weeks since arriving here, but he had been seen wandering about by others and that was good enough for her. She'd catch up with him sooner or later. She couldn't wait to tell him what a wet blanket he had been when she last saw him. Outlands had been good to her so far. The weapons and armor she had salvaged from the orc-infested Ramparts and Blood Furnace were a great improvement over the battered leathers she had been wearing for many months back on Azeroth.

"So much for all his doom and gloom, eh, Amarok?"

The wolf quirked his ears backwards and seemed to grin before emitting a single, sharp bark in response.

Not that Outlands wasn't without its own "charm." There was an enterprising Goblin that had expected her to sift through a fel dog's excrement for some supposedly eaten key. She had very politely told Razelcraz where to shove that particular key and then to search his own to find it. Unfortunately, he hadn't been very impressed with that particular bit of advice and had threatened to throw her to a Fel Reaver.

She shuddered in remembrance. Now there was something that couldn't be exaggerated even if one tried. The giant clanking monstrosities could move with surprising stealth until they were nearly on top of you and then suddenly the grinding scream of their joints would rend one's ears at the same moment the whole planet seemed ready to split yet again with the quaking stomp of the machinery. She idly wondered if they were based upon the devilsaurs of Un'Goro as she had noticed startling similarities.

In her typical fashion though, Runeclaw had seen the beauty of even the wasteland known as Hellfire Pennisula. The sky held a bursting aurora that never ceased to capture her attention with the flowing swirl of muted color. True, the air was clogged with smoke and the scent of fel energy, but plants had managed to take hold in the craggy earth, and she had learned how to use the new felweed she had discovered to its best advantage. So far, she hadn't even blown up the alchemy lab in Shattrath once! The strange little birdmen that ran it seemed more amused with her experiments than threatened and even quite interested in some of the more volatile substances she had accidently developed. With much trial and error, she had finally perfected the technique of producing a single potion that was strong enough to persist even through the process of having one's spirit healed.

Runeclaw paused at the entrance to Thrallmar and shielded her eyes from the red haze that coated everything here. As usual, her gaze was pulled to the west and she smiled as she thought of the soothing marsh that lay in that direction. Most of her brethren would probably prefer the Mulgore-like plains of Nagrand, but she had found Zangarmarsh to provide a tranquil balm. She looked forward to finishing her work here in Hellfire so that she could leave it behind and spend more time chasing fireflies and trying to climb spongy mushrooms. She was also very interested in learning more about the little Sporeggans and perhaps smuggling the lot of them back to Azeroth.

"Well, let's get moving Amarok; Hellfire's just bursting with things for us to chase down today!"

The wolf leaped forth with a burst of speed which came to an immediate end as a ravager barreled out from behind a broken caravan and careened into them. The trio went sprawling into the dusty ground amid a tangle of tails, limbs, indigent barking, and happy chittering.

"Blast it, Cuddles!"

It appeared she had found her brother after all, or rather, he had found her.


	12. Reavers and Orcs and Boars, Oh My!

"Aaaaaagggghhhhhh!"

Runeclaw's feet barely touched the ground as she pelted across Hellfire with a fel reaver close on her heels. She zigged left and then zagged right to dodge the massive metal feet that stomped down around her. Her ears fairly rang with the constant screech of grinding joints and booming thuds reverberating on every side as it tried to crush her into the red earth. Suddenly, she reversed direction and circled back behind one gargantuan appendage. She leapt at it as the reaver came to skidding halt and spun around to scan the ground.

_Wow, those things can really turn on a silver_, she thought as she clung to the leg of the great demonic construction. It rotated around in a full 360 view of the peninsula before a blast of fel smoke exited its head in frustration. It finally turned back in the direction it had come from, and she slid nimbly to the ground and slipped into the shadows behind a rocky outcropping until it was completely out of sight.

"You can come out now, you big sissy," she called. Amarok slunk out from behind a nearby rock with his tail tucked between his legs and ears laid flat on his skull.

"Honestly, thanks a lot you ungrateful beast," Runeclaw harrumphed at her wolf. "I get knocked off and what do you do? You take off, that's what! How am I supposed to outrun that thing when my mount won't even let me get back on, huh? HUH?!" She waved her arms around dramatically to punctuate her points as Amarok reflexively ducked each time one hand swung too close. The beast knew she would never lay a hand on him, but he also knew she was prone to accidents.

The great wolf sat back on his haunches and perked up his ears before giving her a wide-eyed liquid stare. She paused in her tirade to glare at Amarok and stabbed a stubby finger at his black nose.

"Oh no, don't you try that innocent expression on me! It won't work this time." She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her back on him. The canine butted his wide head against back playfully. Runeclaw gave a quarter turn as the wolf started circling around so she could keep her back to him.

"I am not speaking to you. Go away," she stated flatly. He bumped her again, this time on the left elbow. A smile tickled the corners of her mouth, but she quickly squelched the expression. "Not working," she grumped, trying to still sound cross.

Amarok sighed through his nose and then grabbed her herb pouch in his teeth, tugging it free of her belt and taking off with it.

"Hey! Get back here with that!"

As she chased after him, the wolf was careful not to run too fast so that she wouldn't fall very far behind. He led her on a merry chase all the way back to Thrallmar where he danced around her as she made several sloppy grabs for her pouch.

"I worked hard for that felweed, Amarok. I didn't see you trying to sneak past that fel reaver to grab that last bunch, did I? Now, give it back right now." She held her hand out as if expecting him to drop it neatly into her palm. He plunked down in front of her and returned the stare. Her jaw clenched. His muscles bunched in anticipation.

"Aaaarrgh!" She dove at the wolf just as he jumped off to the side. Runeclaw sprawled face-down in the dirt, and Amarok reversed direction to perch upon her back. The nearby leatherworker let out a loud guffaw and shook his head as he wandered over to shoo Amarok off her back.

"Look here, girl, you should know better by now. He gets the best of you every time," Barim said with laughter lacing his words as he helped her up.

Runeclaw dusted herself off and shrugged with her crooked little grin. "I know, but I keep hoping one day I'll finally get the best of him."

Amarok walked over and calmly dropped the pouch at her feet as if delivering something he had been sent to retrieve instead of having stolen. She picked it up and refastened it to her belt, making sure to double knot the leather strips that kept it at her side.

"Where's Flinthoof?" Barim asked curiously. The siblings were certainly hard to miss as they ran from one end of Hellfire to the other, causing all manner of mischief and explosions, particularly the explosions.

"Oh, I don't know. He blathered something about Broken Hill and then took off. I guess flower picking isn't very exciting for him. He's obviously never picked flowers out here because it's sure no walk in Mulgore. First it was those red-skinned orcs, then it was some freaky, spiky boar, and then it was one of those blasted reavers! Picking flowers here is like trying to dodge dwarven bombs in Gnomeregan."

Barim blinked once and then laughed heartily again. "I have a feeling you could find some excitement even in Mulgore," he said, patting her on the head. "It's getting late though. You should think about staying inside the walls of Thrallmar for the evening," he went on with fatherly concern.

"Don't worry about me. I'm off to Shattrath to see what I can do with this felweed I gathered." She gave him a perky salute and jogged over to the flight master.

"Earthmother help us all," Barim muttered as he shielded his eyes and watched her fly off over his head toward the refugee city.


	13. I Like Big Bugs (and I cannot lie)

"I thought you had gone to Outlands," Tal growled without preamble.

"I did and then I came back and then I went back and here I am again!" Runeclaw replied with her characteristic cheerfulness. "Honestly, Thunder Bluff is much nicer than that Shattrath City. You wouldn't believe the types of people that hang around there."

"You don't say," he answered without enthusiasm. "Look here, girl, when are you going back?"

"Oh, I don't know, soonish I think. I needed to take a little break due to a slight mishap at the alchemy lab there. I'm not allowed to use it again until I gather enough Arakkoa feathers to replace all the ones that I, um, well, let's just say some of the Arakkoa need some shiny new feathers to look as pretty as possible."

Tal dragged a hand over his face and prayed silently to the Earthmother to give him the strength to deal with this Druid yet again.

Runeclaw pulled his hand away from his face and peered at him closely. "You look like you could use a vacation, Tal, and you really _should_ stop grinding your teeth like that. I keep telling you…ack!"

Tal grasped her firmly by the front of the tunic and pulled her up to the tips of her hooves as he leaned down to glower at her. "Is there somewhere you'd like to go?" he asked in a deceptively quiet tone of voice.

She nodded agreeably while prying his fingers one by one off her leathers. "Oh absolutely! I'd like to go to Silithus. I hear there're some really big bugs there that I just have to see for myself. Plus, I thought this might be a good time to try to get back in good graces with the Cenarion. I'm not sure how fast word travels between the Expedition in Zangarmarsh and the Circle here, but…"

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Stop. Just stop. If I have to think about all the damage one little Tauren like you can do I may just jump out of this aerie and straight off the Bluff."

She smiled and tilted her head coyly. "You don't mean that. You'd never leave your wyvern to my mercy," she said, deliberately baiting him.

"Gah! Get out of here, woman, before I beat you myself!"

Runeclaw laughed merrily as she and the poor creature assigned to fly her balanced at the exit. "You said woman, not girl! You're slipping, Tal." With a backwards wink she spurred the wyvern forward into the clear morning sky.

As the wyvern banked across Un'Goro it gave her an uneasy look, but she didn't try to deviate its course and, indeed, seemed lost in thought. The wyvern had flown this particular Tauren enough to know that she was often a fount of ceaseless chatter. As they entered Silithus though, the silence finally broke.

"By the Earthmother! Are those swarms?" she remarked while looking out across the landscape at the gargantuan hives that dotted the land. An involuntary shudder ran through her shoulders that caused the fur on the nape of her neck to stand on end. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all," she remarked to herself as they touched down in the outpost.

Ever the one to make the best of any situation, she mused aloud, "I wonder which herbs make the best bug bomb," and garnered several uneasy glances as she marched towards the inn to check in.


	14. Freedom?

The mammoth storm crow drew in her wings and descended from the sky like a falling infernal meteor in Shadowmoon Valley. The rushing whoosh of air slicked over her tawny feathers in a loud whisper as the ground drew closer at an alarming rate. Close by was the naga-infested Serpent Lake, but she had begun her fall over the shore near Twinspire Ruins. Her eyes smarted and teared from the force of the wind pummeling them, as her heart pounded like drums of war within her breast. It would be mere seconds until she collided with the earth.

Then, just before imminent impact, her wings snapped out. A screech of pure, thrilling, excited fear echoed across the lake. From a vertical nosedive to a horizontal racing glide she flipped towards the lake. Talons and tail feathers skimmed the surface of the still water, disrupting its placidity and leaving a quickly expanding ripple trailing behind like the exhaust from a goblin zeppelin. The spray splashed up against her plumage, soaking her and invading her nostrils with the boggy scent of the marsh.

As she neared the reservoir she gave several vigorous pumps of her drenched appendages and rose into the air again at a more leisurely pace. She banked east and lit onto the spongy surface of one of the gargantuan mushrooms that dotted the landscape.

Runeclaw stumbled once as she released the form of the crow and righted herself with pinwheeling arms and tail before just letting herself fall backwards into the soft surface of the fungus.

"Done. It's almost all done," she said in an awed whisper to the tiny blue whelping that had just crested the top of the mushroom. It puffed twice and then toppled over as it tried to land. She righted the tiny dragon carefully and absently patted its head as it tried to snap off one of her fingers.

"Oh, don't be like that. One day you'll be big and fast and will own the skies, and I'll be the one huffing and puffing trying to keep up," she smiled knowing full well she'd never live to see such an amazing sight but relishing the thought of it anyway. The little beast seemed somewhat placated, either by the words or her tone of voice or perhaps just the bit of serpent flesh she now drew from her pack to offer to the whelp.

Wiping her greasy, dragon-drool-covered fingertips on her leggings, she reached into her bag again and pulled forth a glimmering moonstone. Rubbing her thumb along the polished surface, she felt the infusion of power emanating from deep within the nacreous gem. _One more step and then it's finished. I am finished._

Her last trip to Thunder Bluff to see her cousin Nara Wildmane had resulted in a surprise. There was nothing left for her to learn there. In fact, she had only one final task to complete before she would consider herself a full-fledged Druid, defeating the raven god Anzu. True, she had a pretty wyvern all decked out in amethyst armor that matched her own armor and staff, but to be able to master the form of the storm crow completely was a real achievement that she meant to attain. She had worked hard the last few days to take care of all the preliminary tasks set before her that would allow her to summon Anzu, but now, she had lost a lot of her momentum.

"Ugh, so much work yet to do," she groused, still lazing about and staring out towards the eddying vortex that rose in a symphony of crystal light from the center of the reservoir. "I thought it'd be all raining gold and Chieftain concerts when I reached the end of my training. Instead, it's just more of the same - trying to impress people, running from one end of the land to the other. Although, I guess they do pay better out here, and all those bombing runs are a blast."

The whelp hopped over to perch near her shoulder, only to start gnawing on the edge of her staff. She did nothing to stop the creature since the staff was already battered from use and small teeth marks from prior chewing.

"Of course, Flint will be of no help," she sighed. Her brother hadn't done much of anything in recent weeks except run around tormenting the Alliance, but such was his way. He was in no condition to venture into the place where Anzu was held.

"But neither will I," she chuckled. "All those refugees in Lower City still don't trust me not to muck things up. I suppose I'll have to work on garnering more of their good faith. Maybe blowing up the Alchemy Lab less often will help," she mused aloud, continuing her one-sided conversation.

"Maybe a day off won't hurt. I could do some fishing. What do you think, Druac?"

The whelp cocked its head, maw still wrapped around one of the bat-like extensions winging from the tip of her staff. A little trail of sulfuric smoke drifted out of its nares. With a wet slurp it released the staff and nosed its way into her pack.

Laughing, she slung the pack over her shoulders as an azure-colored nose peeped out from under the flap. "All right, all right, I get it."

Placing two fingers in her mouth she emitted a sharp whistle that bore resemblance to the screaming cry of her crow form. After a moment, the trained wyvern she had bought recently was circling overhead.

"Well, c'mon! I am not flying up there; you get down here right now!" she shouted with a frown. "We're just going fishing, I swear! There're no gronn in Garadar!" The wyvern yowled down at her as its barbed tail flicked twice in annoyance. "It was just one time," she called back, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Now get down here!"

Reluctantly, the beast landed, and she clambered aboard after securing her saddlebags. They rose into the sky and turned towards Nagrand. She had some planning to do, and a relaxing day of casting was just the time to do it.


	15. Times They Are A'Changin'

_The line it is drawn  
The curse it is cast  
The slow one now will later be fast  
As the present now will later be past  
The order is rapidly fadin'  
And the first one now will later be last  
For the times they are a-changin'.**_

It had been strange times for the young druid in the intervening years since her departure from Outlands. After reaching the culmination of her druidic training, she had wandered for a bit, sight-seeing as it were, and losing herself in the majesty of new lands and the comfort of old ones. She lost touch with not only her extended tribe, Horns of Shu'halo, but also her family and friends. Indeed, she became quite reclusive after spending so many of her years training to please and honor others. She even lost touch with her brother when they parted ways as he went off to Northrend, seeking his fame and fortune chasing after rumors of the Lich King.

After one too many explosions at far too many alchemy labs, not to mention the cost of repairs to her flambéed armor as well as many bad haircuts to disguise a singed mane, Runeclaw moved on to something a little bit safer…for everyone. She found she rather liked inscribing. She loved the brightly colored inks, the floral scents of each glyph she painstakingly created, and even the feel of the delicately feathered quill, one of her very own feathers from her storm crow form, scratching softly across the parchments. The methodical whisper of pen on paper and the evolving flow of her script was a soothing balm in what had become a very chaotic world.

Eventually, she too found herself in Northrend, more out of her insatiable curiosity than anything else. She would occasionally hear a rumor or three or four about her brother's work for the Kirin Tor, but she found that the mages of city Dalaran made her uncomfortable. They seemed quite opposed to the idea of fun and didn't seem to appreciate her attempts at humor, like the time she filled the fountain with soap and watched it bubble over halfway up the road to the flight deck. They also didn't appear to appreciate the waterslide she created in order to "wash it all up" like they ordered. She didn't think three inches of water qualified the bank as being "absolutely ruined by flooding." It did drain out eventually!

It was while she was out on a leisurely flight one day, searching for a suitable fishing hole to while away the hours, that she found herself in Dragonblight, more specifically the Emerald Dragonshrine, and everything changed for her once more. It was there that she met Nishera the Garden Keeper and learned of The Wyrmrest Accord. It was there that she learned more of the Emerald Dream, something she had not thought about since a short jaunt through Wailing Caverns to speak to a druid named Naralex. Instead, she had found an angry mammoth murloc as well, and it left a much deeper impression on her than the slumbering Elf.

She also was urged to speak to an ancient Tauren druid named Xarantaur. He seemed to have more patience for her than many others, and he encouraged her to follow more closely with the Green Dragonflight and to try to learn more of her history as a druid. So, that was what she did, with the hopes that one day perhaps she too could rise to the venerable level of Dragonsworn. She loved listening to The Witness' stories. She spent many an hour imagining herself on a long pilgrimage as he had undertaken, seeing everything there was to see, learning everything there was to know.

Unfortunately, all of her aspirations and ideas were put on hold with The Shattering. Even as far away as Storm Peaks, news eventually reached their ears of the destruction that Deathwing had wrought on Azeroth. Like many druids, she rushed to Mount Hyjal to answer the calls of Hamuul Runetotem and Ysera. It is there that she has been for many months now, eking her way across the landscape of Nordrassil's roots and fighting the raging fires of Ragnaros and the sinister Twilight Dragonflight. Lately, she has been seen keeping company with another young, spirited druid named Thisalee Crow, and the two of them seem to be stirring up a "raven's nest" of trouble as they work together for the Druids of the Talon. Perhaps Runeclaw is finally learning that not all Night Elves want to stab her personally, even if Thisalee does seem to love stabbing things in general!

**Lyrics above are from Bob Dylan's _Times They Are A-Changin'_


	16. Back to the Beginning

Runeclaw might have enjoyed her flight if the matter at hand had not been so tedious and at the same time so vitally important to her. She could smell the ocean off to the west and hear the cries of the gulls and the muted crash of the waves with her enhanced avian senses. Once upon a time these things had given her comfort. She had been lulled to sleep by the familiar sights and sounds of Feralas for as long as she could remember, but today, they gave the young druid no enjoyment at all as she skimmed along the tall trees and scanned the healthy-appearing landscape.

Runeclaw had been surprised when she first crested the craggy peaks dividing her home from Desolace. To her eye, Feralas seemed largely cosmetically unaffected by The Shattering. There was no gaping wound oozing through the Dream Bough, no tumultuous seas wrestling to drink the coast into a deep grave, and no raging fires consuming all in their path like a swarm of angry silithid upon the greenery. The initial impression had filled her with hope. Surely, her branch of the Wildmane Tribe was safe and sound in one of their usual camps since their homeland was still so verdant and unchanged.

That had been three days ago. Her eyes were now bloodshot and gritty from the hours spent racing into the wind. Her feathers ached all the way to the very tips of her rectrices. Her natural buoyancy was flagging even as she still clung to fragile hope that she would find some trace of them. Each thrust of her wings caused a muscle to spasm along her spine, but she pressed on regardless, unable to give up, unable to succumb to failure.

The first day she had spent zipping along the well-worn pathways to her tribe's usual camps in the east and south. They had tended to avoid the western and northern woods due to Night Elves and dragonkin, so she would search those areas last. Their nomadic encampments had not been visited for many months; that much had been blatantly obvious. The fire pits were cold and covered in leaves and moss. Small tangles of wildflowers grew up between the stones, wrapping around the sooty rock like emerald veins. All that remained of their tents were scraps of weathered leather and broken bits of lumber worn down by the elements and trampled into splinters by larger wildlife.

She slept that night in Camp Mojache after questioning all of the inhabitants about her kin. Some of them remembered her; she hadn't changed much in the intervening years. Perhaps she had a bit more muscle and a bit more fluff around her middle, but her hair still hung in the same bedraggled braids and her nose still quirked up at the end like a little pug. Many of the older Shu'halo cringed upon seeing her arrive, stumbling across the ground and knocking the mailbox off kilter as she tried to land, but their winces became looks of sympathy and pity as her shoulders slumped with each negative response she received to her inquiries. None of the Wildmane had come to trade in the camp in many, many months now, not since The Shattering, but ever the optimist, she was glad to hear that nobody had heard of anything nefarious befalling her tribe either. She made sure to leave messages there, just in case anyone wandered through, so they would know where to reach her now.

The second day she spent a few hours in emotional self-flagellation for not coming to check on them sooner. _Why had she run off to Mount Hyjal instead of coming to her family's aid instead? Maybe if she had been here when they needed her then they wouldn't have disappeared. What if she never found them again, never heard from them again, never saw her mother or the twins or even Elder Thal's backside again? Why had no one sent a missive? Did they not have time? Did they not care enough to bother notifying her?_ Too many negative thoughts crowded her mind and eventually they made her angry. She was never one to wallow in bad feelings. Her family was out there somewhere, and there would be a good reason she hadn't heard from them. The letter had merely gotten lost or the younger twins had used all the ink to put tattoos on the calves or some other such nonsense.

She delved further to south that day, all the way to the Writing Deep even though it meant tangling with those nasty silithid. She took out some of her frustration and anger on the creepy crawlers by swooping low over their chittering heads and smacking the tips of their antennae with her talons. They would screech and click ferociously, their pungent enzymatic odor filling the air to warn the rest of the hive about the intrusion, and it somehow made her feel better to make them feel bad, too. It didn't take long though until she started to feel genuinely upset about the distress she was causing the big bugs for no good reason. She left them alone then, even wishing she could apologize in a language they might understand. Moving on, she had scoured the ruins over the rocky ledge to the west after that but still found neither hide nor hair of her brethren.

She camped in the mountains near Dire Maul that evening, not even bothering to light a fire as she set up a sparse camp and ate dried rations that tasted like well-worn, sweaty boot leather. She hadn't even heard from Kitahl in a dragon's age and had no idea if he had survived his headstrong idea of taking on the Lich King. She didn't like lingering on such morose thoughts, so she spent the rest of the evening trying to teach the little emerald whelp she had been entrusted with for her efforts in Mount Hyjal how to do loop-dee-loops. The wee thing crashed almost as much as she did, but at least it had an excuse of being a mere infant. She still hadn't decided upon a name for her charge, but the whelp didn't seem to care for Snoodles, Whipperkin, Berrybub, or Tail-A-Gator.

She slept fitfully that night and was cranky and blue when she awoke despite the bright sunshine and the sweet songs of the birds filling the cool morning air. Northward she went this time, despite knowing that it was unlikely her family was in that direction. She circled a rather large lake that she didn't remember ever running across previously, locked in by stone walls except for a narrowed neck of water trailing its way into Desolace. In the center was the shell-shocked hull of an Alliance tower and what looked like some stranded Gnomes and Dwarves. She thought about going down to see if they needed help, but as she wended her way lower, she noted they had out surveying equipment and she didn't much care for the green eldritch glow coming from the burning tower's core. Instead, she turned east again, flying along the border near Camp Narache.

Just then something caught her eye far off in the distance. At first she believed it was an aerial assault but just as quickly she knew half the beasts in the sky would never mount a coordinated effort together to attack. Besides, half of them were flying like they were drunk on Dwarven stout. She banked in their direction to get a closer look. She was in sore need of a distraction anyway.


	17. Off to the Faire

Runeclaw was just approaching close enough to determine what exactly the group of riders and flyers might be up to when something caught her eye down below. Just north of the Gordunni Outpost and nestled into the hills halfway between Feralas and Mulgore was a small encampment clinging to the crag like lichen to a smooth river rock. Her heart skipped half a beat and she swooped low toward the earth-colored leather tents, wings rejuvenated as she recognized the painted design decorating the shelter.

_Her tribe!_

She excitedly hit the ground so hard that she went rolling across it like a wayward furry cannonball as she shifted to her natural form. She crashed through a tent, the fabric swaddled her like a snug caterpillar in a cocoon, and she finally came to a halt against the side of a large boulder. A groaning gasp accompanied the abrupt cessation of frenetic movement. This utterance was swiftly followed by an explosion of some of the more colorful cursing Runeclaw had picked up on her travels.

"If someone doesn't cut me out of here right now I swear by Kazzak's frilly lavender underpants that I will unleash my dragon on the lot of you!" Never mind that her dragon was barely bigger than her own fist, they didn't know that.

When assistance did not swiftly arrive with the advent of her threat, she finally managed to poke her blocky muzzle through a hole, and with much muttering and shuddering and wriggling, eventually her entire face peeked out of the opening while the rest of her stayed shrouded in the wrecked abode. The aforementioned dragon hovered in front of her nose with a curious tilt of its head before alighting on her protruding proboscis.

"Shoo!" She whooshed air out of her nares with a snort and gave her head a constrained shake to dislodge the emerald whelp.

Her field of vision now unobstructed, she blinked a few times, as many are wont to do when they think clearing their vision might somehow affect the fact that they are seeing something they don't wish to see. The camp was completely empty. Not a single soul remained to even cluck their tongue disapprovingly at her predicament. With a frustrated frown, the Druid shifted to cat form. The sound of shredded leather rent the air as her claws reduced her mummification wraps to tatters. A few ragged strips skitter-scritched across the rocks with a puffy breath of wind as she stood up finally.

She walked the perimeter of the ledge where only a handful of tents remained. The fire pits were long cold and even the ash had blown away. A few of them still had iron spits spanning the rock circles, but no scent of food clung to the rotisseries. Placing her hands on her hips and flipping her tail out from under her hooves, she grumbled tiredly as she surveyed the scene more closely. As near as she could tell, her tribe had probably been here after they were last seen at Camp Mojache. They apparently hadn't stayed very long though before moving again, but to where? The proximity of the ogres might have had something to do with their decision to keep going, but what she couldn't figure out was why they were going anywhere at all in the first place.

"Well, how do you like those fish?" She groused to the whelp who hungrily opened its maw at the word fish. "What?" she queried as it belched a small plume of chartreuse smoke. "Oh! You want a fish," she paused to rummage around a pouch at her waist before pulling free a smoked eel wrapped in oilskin. She tossed it an offhand manner to the baby dragon while huffing a lock of mane out of her left eye.

"I guess we'll just have to keep looking, won't we?" she finally decided as her gaze swept up the side of the mountain to where it touched the sky.

The little green took its turn to make a rumbly-grumbly noise now. "I know, I know. You're sick of flying. So am I," she sighed. "Oh, I know! How about if go to Thunder Bluff? That's not very far. We can visit Tal, I think he'll like you, and ask around about the tribe and maybe visit Nara, and I'll even let you ride in on my back so you can rest your wee wings. How 'bout that?"

Anyone else might have looked ridiculous trying to negotiate with an infant dragon on the side of the mountain, but somehow Runeclaw managed it with aplomb. The dragon even seemed to give its consent as it did a lazy twirl in the air before landing with a little hop-skip and looking at her expectantly.

Soon, the pair was soaring over the fertile vista of Mulgore. While her aim was Thunder Bluff, she still kept one eye out for any sign that the Wildmane had ventured onto this side of the mountainous ridge. It wasn't long before she spied the garish purple tents spread out across the downtrodden earth just off the road approaching the lift.

_The faire!_ A puppy-like squeak of joy managed to leave her beak as she banked left. Mindful of the baby on board, she slowed her descent much more cautiously than usual, gliding through the tall grass until her talons barely raked the soft soil. She only stumbled twice and managed to stay upright as she jogged and then walked to a full stop. When the Tauren took the place of the crow, the whelp was sitting comfortably on her shoulder.

"Huh, it's a lot smaller than I remember," she remarked while walking past the banner poles. "And what's with the portal?"

She spied an obvious carnie, judging the outlandish outfit in colors that even made Runeclaw's eyes water. "Yoohoo!" she waved her arms overhead to get the woman's attention. The carnie, in turn, pretended to be busy tightening up some tent stakes and rearranging some crates. Runeclaw, however, was quite used to people using this particular maneuver to try to avoid having to deal with her, so she merely planted herself on one of the crates as the Night Elf tried to pick it up. "Hello there, carnie Elf!" she said again, just as cheerily.

A world-weary sigh erupted from the other female. "I know who you are!" she scolded, pointing an incongruously well-manicured, dusky-hued finger at the Tauren and shaking it like a schoolmarm. Her extensive ears wiggled and waggled distractingly from the force of the Elf's admonishment. Runeclaw's muzzled bobbed up and down in time with the ears and the finger as she stared curiously down at the Elf. "I remember the last time when you stuffed the cannon full of red velvet cupcakes and cabbage kimchi! Do you have ANY idea how long it took to clean that thing out, let alone scrub out the stench and the frosting? Do YOU?"

A crooked little grin twisted up the right side of Runeclaw's muzzle as she recalled the event. Shredded cabbage had flown like miniature flags from every pole and tent, and the few petting zoo animals had never groomed each other quite so efficiently as when they had been covered in cream cheese icing. "Three weeks, two days, 17 hours, 42 minutes, and 22 seconds?" Runeclaw seemed to be quite serious as she replied though.

"Argh! I mean it, Druid, you stay away from the faire! We don't need any more of your mischief. Get away from the portal!"

"Oh! So the portal goes to the faire? Super! Thanks so much!"

Runeclaw hopped off the crate, dodged the brutish ogre that lumbered toward her as the Elf gesticulated wildly and shouted incoherent things in Darnassian, and ran through the shimmering haze of the portal. She stumbled through the other side, waved cheerily at the attendant standing nearby, and grabbed one of the available tallstriders before he could even finish his spiel.

"Welcome to Darkmoon Island! Feel free to ride…" The Gnome scratched his bald pate and adjusted his rose-tinted goggles as the Tauren took off with a hoot and a holler, trailed by a dizzy-appearing green whelp. "Well then!"

The leather saddle creaked and groaned as the bird bounced and pounded down the bumpy path. It squawked indignantly as she merely spurred it on for a short time. Momentarily, Runeclaw slowed the large bird about halfway down the path, secure that she wasn't being followed in hot pursuit. The trees closed in on either side and strange eyes peered at her from the thickets. She drew into herself slightly as the wind rustled the leaves and diaphanous wisps of light fluttered in and out of her sight beyond the heavy trunks.

"Kind of spooky," she whispered to herself. "This must be the right place though. I heard that Gnome called it Darkmoon Island." Lingering doubt started to crowd her mind though as she progressed down the gloomy path. Just when she was considering turning around and facing the ogre instead, the path started to open up and the scents of fresh hay, barn animals, and fried meat wafted toward her.

"Ooooh," she intoned in awe as she came to a halt before the massive expanse of the faire. "It's a lot bigger than I remember."

She slipped off the tallstrider and slowly made her way into the throngs of laughing fairgoers and cajoling game vendors, rubbing her hands together with glee. _Where to first?_


	18. Ballyhoo

Runeclaw stood at the annex and gaped at the rainbow-hued spread before her. All of Azeroth's races equally shared the sun-dappled cornucopia of festivities littering the landscape like the aftermath of a ticker-tape parade. She even caught a glimpse of new faces, the not-a-Druid-bear bears. She was actually itching to make the acquaintance of at least one Pandaren because she still remembered fondly licking out the last few hoppy drops from Chen's (nearly) empty keg in The Barrens. She had heard tell that particular keg actually originally belonged to one these strange new bears, and she was dying to know where she could find some more stormstout or perhaps even learn to brew it herself. Brewmaster Drohn had absolutely refused to teach her anything since she kept blowing up her alchemy experiments back then; never mind that she had never exploded a campfire spit or bubbled over a cooking pot, not even once.

Shaking off the reverie, she dragged her gaze away from one rather inebriated and portly Pandaren and turned it back to the circus tents and stalls lining the main thoroughfare. Her head swiveled back and forth, to and fro, up and down, and even in a wide arc as she watched someone suddenly go sailing through the sky toward the ocean. She took two steps to the left and then three steps to the right as she tried to decide what to do first and how to get there through the thick throng. People jostled about in a friendly manner, their expressions sated and jovial as they crunched on corn-breaded sausage and guzzled lime green or hazard orange iced berry slushies.

"We should have brought Druac, eh?" She referenced the azure whelp to the emerald who was now perched once again upon her shoulder. "I bet he would have cleared a path for us right quick, but noooooo, he wanted to hang out at the stables instead of going with us to Feralas and now see what's he's missing? You be sure to tell him what he missed, uhh...erm...Greenie? You really need a name, you know?"

The whelp flapped its wings and squawked at the young Tauren and then nipped her mane near the base of a horn to get the wayward druid refocused; otherwise, they were likely to be standing here all day while she prattled on off-track.

"Ow! All right! Let's go get a sarsaparilla sinker, first, and maybe some funnel cake and a deep fried candy bar. Oh! And hot wings. You'll love 'em!"

A little while later found Runeclaw with a delicious lightly fried pastry in one hand, a candy bar hanging out of the side of her mouth like a stogie, and a sarsaparilla foam mustache. Her other hand held a buzzard wing coated in hot sauce that was being swiftly devoured by the baby dragon. They wandered past many of the games, although Runeclaw was quick to skedaddle past the cannon before the Gnome cannoneer noticed her. She wasn't sure if she would remember her, too, but no sense taking chances getting "86'ed."

"Tink joo a good shot, mon? Quick on da trigger? It'll just cost joo one token to test dem skills!" Runeclaw turned her head toward the Troll as he called out to people passing by his shooting booth. "What'd'joo say, Tauren? Give it a shot!" He cackled at his own pun as Runeclaw stepped up to the counter and laid down a token, pushing it across the smooth wood with a fingertip. He pocketed the token quickly and motioned at the assortment of rifles lying in front of her. After picking up several and noting the sight was off on all of them, she finally settled on the least battered of the bunch. Bracing the butt of the rifle against her shoulder, she looked down the barrel with a practiced eye that automatically corrected for what she could plainly see was a slightly askew length of iron. A legacy of hunting Wildmane flowing through her blood made shooting as easy as breathing to this Shu'halo.

What happened next had the old Troll gaping like a fish out of water and then gnashing his tusks in consternation as Runeclaw expertly fired off round after round to hit all 25 targets with time to spare. "Wha-? How did…? But joo couldn't…," Rinling sputtered in disbelief before recovering himself with a wide grin. "I knew joo could do it! Joo see dat, boiz! Dis here li'l Tauren can do it, so can joo!" He motioned at a couple of human lads and one Dwarf who had stopped to gawk as well, trying to draw them in as he grudgingly handed Runeclaw her prize.

"What?! One ticket? That's IT? What a ripoff! I oughta...GREATMOTHER ABOVE AND BELOW! IS THAT CHIEF THUNDER-SKINS?" Runeclaw let out a shrieking giggle like a homecoming queen on prom night as she suddenly took off toward the stage in a loping run. The whelp clung to her leather tunic with all four sets of claws and bared its teeth with a loud hiss of outrage as the druid barreled forward while bystanders leaped out of the way and slapped their hands over their ears to ward off the shrill harpielike sound she continued to make all the way to the front of the bandstand where she finally halted. She immediately began jumping up and down and waving her arms like a crazed groupie as The Tauren Chieftains took the stage and started to play.

"This is my FAVORITE song!" She shouted again in a state of agitated excitement that had people once more clearing out of her way as she pogoed her way around the open area front and center. The thrumming bass and percussive beat shook the ground under her hooves, and she only added to stirring up the dirt and causing the benches behind her to vibrate as she danced with abandon to the rock rhythm. Perhaps the most incongruous thing of all though was the fact that Runeclaw perfectly harmonized every note as she sang along with the band until they finally bid goodnight to the crowd. She almost fainted dead away when Chief Thunder-Skins pitched his battered drumsticks into the crowd and she managed to snag one out of the air. So what if she cheated a little bit and used her pouncing cat-form to reach it before anyone else? She did let that little Orc woman get the other one, after all.

Still high on having been "this" close to that dreamy hunk of a Tauren and cradling her real "prize" against her chest like a kewpie doll, she wandered across the lane and into the petting zoo. She daydreamed about "The Chief" whisking her away on the back of Hornsley and riding off into the sunset, she imagined him declaring his undying love and devotion as well, of course, and she was grinning sappily as she rode the little pony around his pen while the object of her desire got down on one knee and proposed to her in the Wilds of Feralas in front of all of her family. With a dreamy sigh, she patted the pony on the head and wandered off aimlessly. Twilight was descending upon the faire but bright lights still kept the excitement high on the main avenue. Glow flies lent an ethereal but warm cast to the woods surrounding the outskirts of the faire.

At length, she found herself in front of a grizzled gnoll as night descended upon the faire. Runeclaw snorted at the old beast. She couldn't even tell which of these things were male and which were female. The thing sucked on its teeth in response. "Come, Druid, I will tell your fortune."

Cautiously, Runeclaw approached as the wizened gnoll took its measure of her in return, scraping her from horn to hoof with its glance. "I will ask you questions. You will answer true. Then I will tell you of your future." Runeclaw dutifully nodded now as she was sucked in by the eerie shadows surrounding Sayge's tent and the whispering accent cultivated in the gnoll's precise speech. Runeclaw thought long and hard about each of her responses. While once upon a time all of her answers would have been of the "do-gooder" variety, she now found herself choosing options that perhaps weren't always in the absolute spirit of "doing the right thing." This bothered her on some level as she realized the truth of her choices and that things were not quite as black and white as she had once believed them to be. However, Sayge did grace Runeclaw with a Dark Fortune of Strength as well as the words of wisdom "You leave your adversaries speechless" which caused Runeclaw to chuckle to herself as she meandered down toward the docks.

Overhead the nightly fireworks had started and their muted booming as they went off over the sea drew Runeclaw down to the beach. The multicolored lights reflected off the cresting waves farther out as the foamy spray misted her hooves and fetlocks as she sat down in the sand and leaned back on her hands to stare up at the night sky. Bright stars battled for dominance on the inky canvas between dazzling flashes of lavender, red, pink, yellow, orange, and aqua that burst like splattered paint in rays of raining color to fizzle upon the water below. As the whelp settled in to nestle against her hip, a tired but satisfied expression overtook Runeclaw's face. She hadn't felt this relaxed in months, maybe a year.

"How about...Malachite?" She asked in yet another attempt for approval from the teeny beast. The dragon yawned, showing off itty bitty rows of razor-sharp teeth, and then rested its chin upon her thigh with a gentle rumbling purr of contentment. Twin spiraling wisps of green smoke drifted upward from the corners of its mouth as it seemed to mull over the suggestion. Receiving no negative response, Runeclaw smiled even more widely. "Malachite it is then," she whispered as she stroked the small horned head and her exhausted ward fell into slumber.


	19. The Tome

Runeclaw stood with her hands on her hips and squinting against An'she's winking rays as The Sun played tag with cottony clouds in the spring field of the brilliant cerulean sky. She was gazing intently across Stonebull Lake at the gnoll encampment up the hill on the other side. Her lower jaw worked thoughtfully in that rolling side-to-side motion that bovines tend to have when chewing. There were telltale smears of chocolate staining her fingers and the short fur around her mouth.

"You think maybe they have some over there?" she mused aloud to the two baby dragons at her feet. They ignored her and continued wrestling across the ground, a tiny azure and emerald bundle that rollicked back and forth as they grappled and tumbled in the budding grass. A sweet spring green scent wafted up from the pair. Druac, the blue whelp, was a weensy bit bigger than his counterpart, now dubbed Malachite, but the green seemed to have the upper hand when they suddenly faced off in wary battle stances. Malachite belched celadon smoke into Druac's face. The blue chuffed and then sneezed repeatedly, stunning it into inaction while the green then pounced its "frenemy" silly. Thus, the battle was reenagaged!

"I'm gonna find out!" she declared suddenly, equally ignoring their antics, and dove right into the lake without warning. She was across the once placid surface in no time at all and emerged from the far side sluicing shivery cool water out of her mane and off her muzzle. It was only as she stood there dripping and her teeth chattering that she realized she could have just flown over the lake and up the hill. Old habits appeared to die hard and she supposed she needed the bath anyway.

She had just spent the morning "helping" everyone in Bloodhoof prepare for the Noble Garden holiday starting in a few days. Most of the banners were crooked and some of the eggs were painted the most ghastly shade of Forsaken green as a consequence of her laborious endeavors. The phrase "I think [Ironhorn, Cloudmane, Roughwound, etc.] needs help instead," was being passed around like ale tankards at a Dwarven tavern as the inhabitants tried to keep foisting the well-intentioned druid off on someone else for a time. Finally, Lalum Darkmane stepped in to intervene by bribing the young woman with some of the chocolate they were putting in the eggs. She may have also surreptitiously suggested that their supply of eggs and chocolate seemed a bit lower than they were before the last gnoll raid. If Runeclaw going off after gnolls in search of "stolen" eggs would keep her busy while they worked, they could all get a lot more done, and if she happened to cull the encroaching little buggers at the same time, more was the better. Runeclaw, of course, had been more than happy to volunteer to go investigate the gnoll communities in Mulgore in search of the missing bounty.

Stealthily, Runeclaw crept her way toward the gnolls with her feline belly slung low to the ground. This was her second favorite part of being a druid, the first being able to fly at what felt like mach 2 through the skies. Behind her in a single file like ducklings trailing their mama crept the two whelps in a mimicry of her posture. Anyone watching the trio might have rolled their eyes at the ridiculous posturing, but the cat and two dragons seemed to be taking their mission quite seriously as they circled behind some trees to the opening of the gnolls' cave. Inside they crept, sneakity-sneak; tippy-tap went their claws on the stone, whisper-shoosh their tails through the pine needles carpeting the interior.

"BOO!" Runeclaw shouted as she jumped into the middle of grotto, only it came out more like "RAWWWWWWWRRRRRRR!" due to her current form. Debris rained from the ceiling as the pummeling percussive sound ricocheted off the walls. Two gnolls just fainted dead away right where they stood, and the rest scattered like water before a drop of oil, shrieking like agitated hyenas as they burst from the mouth of the cave. The dragons hopped after the stragglers hissing for all they were worth and nipping at the gnolls' ankles like some kind of rabid cattle dogs.

The Tauren now stood where the cat had once and she paused to look around slowly. "I don't see any eggs here, do you?" She walked over to poke her nose into a few crates and discovered a few moldy stores of bread, some overripe apples, and a pile of shabby linen cloth along with assorted broken or rusted weapons of very low quality. "They might be more successful if they'd stop using junk like this," she muttered as she tossed aside an axe blade that looked like Alterac Swiss. She suddenly paused in her rifling and pulled out a book, of all things.

"Who knew they could read," she grinned as she swiped a shred of tattered leather jerkin off the cover. The tome itself was in surprisingly excellent condition with a supple cover of brightly dyed turquoise leather. Intricate patterning that fluxed between runes and knotwork was tooled along the border in a sumptuous lemony yellow. No title was upon the cover and so she opened it curiously to peruse the thickly papered interior. Before her eyes, writing was appearing across the page. "A story that tells itself?" she queried the whelps as she tilted it so they could watch the words spill across the pages. "Seems to be a conversation of some sort. I wonder what the story is about?"

She thumbed back a couple of pages and had just started to read when the entire camp of mangy gnolls clogged the exit and blotted out the sunlight. "Uh oh…guess they were going for reinforcements, who knew?" As the horde swarmed forward with a riotous yipping laugh, Runeclaw tucked the book into her belt. She patted herself down for a few precious moments and then "aha'd" softly as she plucked something from one of a myriad of pouches adorning her person. "No time like the present to test out that Moonbrook Riot Taffy Bomb that Nitahu made!"

She lobbed the explosive at the crowd and charged forward as it exploded with a WHOOMP! Gooey pink and blue taffy slung fore and aft in great gobby ribbons that wrapped like mutinous tentacles around the gnolls and mired them in place as effectively as any spider's web. Puddles of the gunky stickiness oozed around their feet as Runeclaw hippity-hopped nimbly through the ensuing tacky, tenacious mess just like a Noble Garden bunny through the fields. Even still, she didn't emerge unscathed as more than a few syrupy strands of taffy clung to her person and, unfortunately, her new book.

When Runeclaw returned to the village with taffy strung like a cat's cradle between her horns as well as dangling from her braids and armor, it was much to the relief of everyone in Bloodhoof that she announced she had found no eggs and was returning to Thunder Bluff to clean up. It was some hours later when she was finally finished divesting herself of the aftermath of the explosion and settled down with her book and a quill. Experimentally, she turned to a blank page and penned, "Holy suncatchers! I found a new book (I was going to use it for scribing once I cleaned all the taffy off of it) but it writes in itself!"

She squinted and pressed her nose closer to the page as conversations seemed to continue flowing around what she had written. She had thought that perhaps she could write herself into the story. "Maybe I'm using the wrong kind of quill or ink." She was so used to speaking to her draconic charges that she didn't even notice they weren't in company and had wandered off in search of free food. Everyone in the Bluff was so used to her oddities though that nobody batted an eye at the Wildmane talking to herself next to the pond. Suddenly, she had an idea and jumped to her feet to run over to the Spirit Rise. She pulled up short when she reached Poshken Hardbinder, a Forsaken scribe who hung around the Pools of Vision. Although the man was blinded by twin straps crisscrossing his face (Runeclaw speculated this was to keep his skull from cracking in half and sliding off his neck), he greeted her by name as soon as she came to a halt in front of him.

"Ahhh, Pathia Wildmane, what can I do for you today? Are you finally ready to learn something new?" He knew that many found her to be a pest at best and a colossal nuisance at worst, but he secretly enjoyed the mayhem she always seemed to unintentionally leave in her wake. He also happened to think she was a rather talented scribe with unusually precise penmanship and attention to detail that belied her chaotic mode of living.

"Not today, Poshy. I'm still discovering some things on my own. I found this book though," she tucked it into his gnarled hands. She didn't bother explaining more than that to him. Poshken knew his books, and if there was something to be gleaned from this one, he didn't need her to explain it to him.

His fingers traced the lines of the cover and then moved to stroke the yellow border as if he were setting ley lines and coaxing them to magical melody. For a brief moment that lasted less time than it takes to blink, the lines glowed with a soft lavender light. "This is a very special tome indeed, Pathia. It is not a simple fairytale of dragons and orcs," he remarked pointedly since he knew she favored that fictional claptrap over Azeroth's rich history which also happened to contain both dragons and orcs. "This book will allow you to speak with others who have a book similar to this one, anywhere in the world…even beyond the world."

Runeclaw gave the old man a consternated look. At least, she assumed he was old; it was often hard to tell with the Undead. "So I don't write in it. I talk to it? Because I tried writing in it and nothing happened. Does it need a magic quill?" She wasn't too keen on the idea of ransacking the gnolls again if the book was missing its special quill.

A rattling wet sigh wheezed up from Poshken's chest. It frustrated him to no end that someone as smart as this Tauren could be the most thick-headed creature he had ever encountered. "No, you don't talk to it. It's not a Goblin communicator, girl. This won't explode on you either," he interrupted when she drew breath to interject. "You can use your own quills and ink. Write in it again…and again…and keep writing until they start to hear you. It might take a few times for the books to sense each other. Magic is an imprecise science." He handed the book back to her.

"Huh, how about that. I wonder where the gnolls found it in the first place," she mumbled to herself after thanking Poshken and wandering back outside. Poshken watched her leave with a slow shake of his head. He held his hand up and sniffed suspiciously at it before suddenly shoving his palm in front of Mertle's face. "Is this TAFFY?!" he exclaimed.


	20. To Whom It May Concern

Runeclaw stared disbelievingly at the letter held in numb fingers. The edges of the creamy envelope were crumpled for the missive had traveled far and back. There was a faded grey water stain in the shape of a lightning bolt streaking diagonally across the surface that soaked clear through from front to back.

_Whereabouts Unknown. Return to Sender._

That's what it said. She'd read and reread those five words perhaps a hundred times in the few minutes she'd been standing at the mailbox outside the Bank of Thunder Bluff. She read them forward. She read them backward. She read them from the middle to beginning and end. They didn't make sense to her no matter how she read them.

_Whereabouts Unknown. Return to Sender._

There it was penned in smoky red ink, ink the color of blood the back of her mind registered, penned in bold, unforgiving, blocky script right across the other words, the words written in a flowing, loopy, playful teal ink.

_Kitahl Flinthoof Wildmane, Dalaran_

_Whereabouts Unknown. Return to Sender._

Her lower lip quivered and she inhaled a snuffling, tremulous sigh before remembering she was standing in the middle of Thunder Bluff. People were rushing past her in and out of the bank, back and forth to the auctioneers, jockeying for position at the mailbox. It was business as usual for everyone…everyone except her.

_Whereabouts unknown._

How could the Kirin Tor not know where her brother had gone? Wasn't he still working for them? When she had left Northrend he had decided to stay firmly put, stating he had a lot of work left to do yet, and she had bid him good hunting and hugged him tightly and went on her merry way. Over a year had passed since she had last heard from him, and on the heels of being unable to locate the rest of her family's tribe, she was suddenly overcome with grief for all the things she had lost while traipsing about for the Cenarion Circle.

Wouldn't she know if he had died? Wouldn't their twin-bond have guttered out of existence like a flame extinguished by an icy howl of wind? True, she felt him rarely these days. Time and distance had caused the iron bond between them to become a fragile thing of gossamer. The ephemeral chain binding the twins had been forged from links so thick that no blacksmith could have rivaled the strength of them. Now, it was but a tenuous, threadlike strand that puffed dangerously close to snapping with the slightest breath. Still, she felt him…didn't she?

_Return to Sender._

Was this her fault? Should she have written sooner? Why did she wait so long to write to him? Why did she wait so long to go check on her tribe? What was more important to her – the Cenarion Druids or her family? Weren't they both her family? She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead as the jumbled thoughts crowded her mind and vied for attention, each voice of culpability rising louder than the last until she could scarce even hear herself think anymore.

A soft hiss against one ear brought her out of her morose reverie. The emerald was perched upon her spaulder, its favorite place to roost, and the azure was dangling from a horn in a poor imitation of the bat she had acquired last week. The stable master was starting to dread her appearance as she was becoming more trouble than an obsessed hunter with her growing collection of tiny critters. Her fingers traced the edges of the envelope again but everything still felt anesthetized – the pads of her digits, her mind, her heart. A heavy weight sat upon her chest and for the first time in her life she wasn't sure how to foist it off of herself. She had every word inscribed inside memorized, but it hardly mattered since her brother wouldn't be reading it after all.

_Dear Kitahl,_

I hope this letter finds you well. I hope this letter finds you at all! I'm sure you've been very busy fighting dragons and liches and Earthmother knows what else up there in Northrend and that's why I haven't heard from you in so long. I've been very busy, too!

_I've taken up inscribing (I know you're laughing reading that) and I've been helping out in Mount Hyjal. If you get some time off, that's where you can find me – Mount Hyjal, just ask any of the druids. We all know each other up there. It's a small world of its own. Sometimes I pass through Thunder Bluff, too. So you can look for me there as well, when you get that time away, time to visit._

_I went to Feralas but our tribe has moved. Did you know they moved? Could you please tell me where they went, if you know? I'm worried about mama and the twins. Doesn't that always seem funny? Saying "the twins" when we were the first twins? I wonder why nobody ever referred to us as "the twins?" Maybe it's because we're so different…_

_I have two baby dragons now. I know that sounds like a lot but they really aren't much trouble. They take such a long time to grow up that I'm sure they'll still be babies long after I've passed into dust and rejoin the earth. I guess I can still use some growing up myself._

_Oh! I saw The Tauren Chieftains last month at the Faire! You should really attend. It's much larger now than it was when we were younger. Chief Thunder-Skins is still a super hunk. I heard a Blood Elf say that – super hunk. I'm not entirely sure what it means but I'm pretty sure it means "very dreamy." You're probably sticking out your tongue and pretending to gag now, aren't you?_

_I found an amazing book! It allows me to talk with others all over Azeroth who have books just like it. I've even talked to Alliance! I know you wouldn't approve but they all seem like very nice folks. I don't think any of them would harm me. I know you would say to be cautious. You're so distrustful sometimes. _

_I need to get back to fighting Twilight cultists. You get rid of five and eight more crop back up where those five were standing. It's a little unnerving. I sometimes feel like I'm fighting a losing battle up there, but I know we have to keep going, stay strong, and we'll drive them off eventually if we just don't give up._

_I just need to keep hope._

_I miss you._

_All my love,_

_Pathia_

A crumpled enveloped fell from the druid's fist and fluttered to the ground. It tumbled across the rise and lifted on the ever-present winds of the Bluff. It spiraled out over the plains of Mulgore buffeted on the wind current. The storm crow never looked back as it took wing in the opposite direction.

_Whereabouts unknown. Return to Sender._


	21. Immolation, Part I and II

_Oblivion. Murky bleakness eclipsing the sunshine of her immortal soul. No day. No night. No morning, afternoon, or evening. Time hemorrhaged._

The druid's eyes cracked open. They were crusted and shot with crimson veins, rheumy eyes that looked out and saw only darkness. Lids with too heavy a burden to remain open, they closed again as another convulsive sob wracked her frame.

_Unmoored, adrift. Not in the Dream, not out of the Dream. Nightmares of her own design far worse than those that dwelled in Emerald. Twisted tentacles grasping, clutching, clawing, digging, dragging, rending. Invasive, persuasive, pernicious things skittering and crawling like smoky black threads of foreordination through the atrophying grey matter._

Her throat constricted uselessly. Her tongue was swollen and dry and the engorged muscle was stuck to the hard palate. Her teeth bore the fuzzy grunge of sleep and days without cleaning. _How many days has it been? A week? A month?_ _Too long but not long enough._ _She still breathed._

_Breathing, a Herculean effort. Still as mausoleum stone. Thunderous aching from the roots of her mane to that now quiescent place of id. Inky vast universe with no suns, no stars, no life. Dominating. Devouring. Destroying._

Her nose was jammed full of thick green mucus and the turbinates inflamed and bloated from the constant crying. She couldn't smell a thing which was probably a boon given her current state. Her leathers hung limply on a frame suffering malnourishment. Her springy, silky pelt had become listless and matted like a mangy wolf. She didn't bother opening her eyes anymore to cast her lackluster view upon a world painted in cinereous hues.

Two tiny dragon whelps, one blue, one green, mortal "frenemies" to the last, had joined forces to further their cause - that of rousting their druid keeper out of her bed. Said bed was currently a vast tree limb high above the robust floor of Feralas' forests. Having finally escaped the overworked stable master, they followed her trail here and found a sodden, misshapen lump that even they had trouble identifying. After a bit of squabbling, which might have looked very much like a "no, _you_ go first" argument, they each gripped a corner of a tattered blanket stained with sweat and the stench of bereavement and tugged on it with all their might. A feral growl erupted from beneath the contaminated wool hermitage as the bright sun lanced with bittersweet, unforgiving agony through her skull. The inside of her eyelids were striated starbursts of color from the infusion of heat and radiant light. The druid's hand clamped over the edge and roughly yanked the cover back up over her horns.

"Go away. Can't you see I'm busy moping and dying inside?" Runeclaw scolded them in a voice without enthusiasm. It echoed hollowly even to her own ears and sounded as foreign as a Forsaken's jawless guttering.

The dragons exchanged glances and seemed to have another entirely silent dialogue before they both inhaled deeply and then let loose a combined jet of sparking blue-green fiery vapor at the woman's head. The wool smoked and sizzled and popped as the dense weave fought ignition but began to smolder. Acrid plumes of smoke fueled by her own filth trashed the pure rays of the hours just past dawn with their swarthy impurities.

"What the fel!" she cried as she whipped the blanket off and began beating it thoroughly to extinguish the dragons' exhalations. While she may have been passively content to lie there and wither into extinction, she still had enough instinctual self-preservation to avoid being burnt to a crisp in the process. The minor effort left her drained and utterly exhausted, her breath whistling alarmingly through her tight throat and arid mouth.

_Couldn't they see she didn't want to be disturbed? Didn't they understand that she wanted to sit here in her tree and brood herself into nothingness? Her brother and tribe were probably dead and now her dragons were trying to set her on fire, maybe even all of Feralas. She had been a terrible role model for the young whelps. Maybe she should return them to their places of origin and just be all alone. She was practically all alone anyway. Who cares if she lost what few friends she had left. They were all just animals._

"You're supposed...to be at...the stables," she wheezed. Every word rolled off her tongue like a boulder being pushed up a mountain. Trying to piece together a sentence seemed an insurmountable task. Twin pairs of eyes gazed at her hopefully as she tried to scowl at the whelps. Her fists gouged at her eyes as she tried to clear the cobwebs from her sight and her mind. Her stomach knotted and rumbled alarmingly, but her abused body lacked the energy to complete the dry heaving it so desperately desired. The duo fluttered a bit closer, and with a sigh, she scooped them into arms that trembled like a newborn giraffe's legs. It could hardly be called a hug since she didn't have the fortitude required to apply the slight pressure that a hug necessitated, but she gathered them closer regardless.

_They may be just animals but they were still all she had anymore. "Something is always better than nothing," Elder Thal's words echoed through distant memories. _

She shoved the memories down, swallowed them like a bitter pill, buried them under six feet of metaphorical earth, and then drowned it all in an ocean of icy-hot tears.

**Immolation, Part II**

Runeclaw stood on the deck of Hellscream's Fist. She was one of many who were making the journey today and the ship was overflowing to the brim with Horde. The wind at this height was fierce and buoyed by the engines of the monstrous dirigible. It whipped her braids into a frenzy that stung her face and forced her to squint against the onslaught of both air and mane. She would have rather been flying on her own wings, but she was still too weak to manage the form properly. She had cleaned herself up, as much as she ever cleaned up, and with the use of some clever strapping had managed to keep her armor from shifting and bunching in all the wrong spots on her lankier frame. She was eating again but only out of necessity to keep her body moving and responding to the commands she gave it. She no longer indulged in sweet treats and fizzy beverages for the sheer pleasure of feeling them on her tongue and sliding down her throat.

Nazgrim was shouting something again. He was always shouting. Runeclaw had been considering putting her spiky little horns straight through his gaping, yammering maw for the last half hour. _Self-important snot, like the world revolves around his and Hellscream's petty squabbling with the Alliance._ She was irritable and itching for a fight. She had been ever since her whelps had dragged her sorry carcass out of Feralas. They were back in the stables again, much to their displeasure, until she could decide what to do with them. The Cenarion had been sending letters from Mount Hyjal during her leave of absence, and she had burned every single one without opening them. She had no intention of going back there, back to _them_. Instead, she was moving on to cleaner waters. Opportunity was to be had in Pandaria if the stories could be believed, and she was unlikely to run into anyone she knew there. A derisive snort whistled from her nares as she folded her arms across her chest and leaned against a mast. _As if I have anyone left to run into anyway._

The boom of cannon fire barely registered, so ensconced was she in her own brooding and internal kvetching. It took the third rocketing blast assaulting the airship to finally gain her attention and only then because her feet nearly went out from under her. She grabbed one of the lines to steady herself as her eyes narrowed at the hurry-scurry of the others aboard ship. Fellow Horde were running below decks to man more cannons at the general's urging bellow, and the captain was fighting for control of his crew and the zeppelin. The ship was sliding sideways in the sky and they were clearly losing altitude. The rate at which they were descending was increasing with each successive blast that buffeted the flying machine.

"You know what to do, Tauren. Get below decks and man those guns! Show these scum that they're in OUR line of fire!" Nazgrim shouted and pointed at her and then at the stairs leading below deck.

Instead of obeying, she thumbed her nose at the green-skinned orc and sneered. "Man your own blasted cannons, Nazgrim!" Runeclaw's grin was all feral fang but there was a bemused tilt to her eyes as she thought her retorting pun quite clever. She wasn't very schooled at "devil may care" attitudes, but she felt she was improving. It wasn't as hard as she thought to act grumpy when things well and truly sucked.

_What's he going to do? Report me to Hellscream?_ She had a few choice words for him too if he wanted to get off his gilded, jewel-encrusted pedestal and lend an ear. She leaned over the rail of the wounded bird and peered at the ground. The heat of another blast blew her mane backward and assaulted her face with heat and smoke. Her chest spasmed with a cough as soot infiltrated her lungs. _Too far to jump_. She flexed her shoulders while considering an aerial descent but ceded herself to probably plummeting to her death if she tried. She wasn't a good flier even on an ideal day. _Some Druid of the Talon I am._ Grabbing one of the coiled ropes secured to the deck, she wrapped it around a leather-clad palm, slung it under her hips, and braced the dangling end in her opposite hand.

"Tally-ho!" she cried as she leaped off the edge and went rappelling toward the chaotic fray beneath them. Anyone could see that ship was going down. She had no intention of going down with it. She was neither captain nor crew and wasn't about to give her meager little life for a lost cause. About 100 feet from the ground, another concussive blast sent her swinging wildly through the air and she got tangled up in her own rope while struggling to keep a grip on it at all. She found herself hanging upside down while uselessly shaking her left hoof and subsequently causing the noose to become tighter with each jostle.

"Blethering fel," she muttered while patting herself down for something useful. Why did she insist on carrying a big stick when a dagger would be infinitely more useful on most days? She tried smacking at her hoof and sawing at the rope with her gardening spade to no effect.

"Blethering FEL!" she shouted more emphatically. On the bright side, she was only about 50 feet from the ground now and it was rushing up fast to excitedly meet and greet her as the ship belched smoke and wheezed its life out of the air. Truth to be told, she felt like she was on the worst carnival ride of her life as she flew higgledy-piggledy through the air. Bile rose in the back of her throat.

"No, no, no. No time for that now," she swallowed hard to send it back to her stomach where it belonged. She didn't even want to envision the mess of vomiting at this speed in these conditions.

Mere seconds before hitting the ground with catastrophic force, she metamorphosed to the form of her storm crow. The small talon easily slipped free of the binding. Triumphantly, she spread her wings and immediately felt a wrenching pop through the head of her humerus as powerful winds mercilessly bushwhacked fragile feathered appendages. There was a moment of futile struggle for control of the sky, one wing dangling uselessly and the other fluttering like a drunken hummingbird, before she just sank like a stone. Hitting the ground flat on her back like a sack of bricks, the impact fortuitously jammed her shoulder back into its socket. A pained squawk shrieked through the smoky, fire-filled air as she slid across grass and mud to come to a head-hammering stop against the trunk of a tree. A large jade turtle lifted its head to contemplate the upside-down crow while chewing placidly on duckweed from a nearby pond.

Runeclaw let loose a gusty sigh as the crow shivered from her body like a spent fever and left only a road-worn Tauren behind. _Guess I won't be flying again anytime soon._ She winced and groaned softly as she worked to right herself, picking leaves and flowers from her hair with half-hearted gestures. Suddenly, she stopped and peered at one closely, sniffed it twice, and then nibbled the edge of the green tea leaf thoughtfully. "Not bad," she remarked to the turtle that only blinked languidly in response.

She could still hear Nazgrim booming across the glade but had no idea where he happened to be located. _More the better, let him think I'm dead. He probably won't even notice I'm gone, just one more body._ She stood up slowly, taking the time to evaluate her bones and joints were still in working order, and then looked around with wide eyes. Gunfire and cannons exploded across the pond, and she could see Alliance rushing to clash with the Horde who had survived. Shaking her head a little sadly, she turned her back on the spectacle and spied a little village nestled in the hill to the north. Tucking the tea leaf into her herb pouch, she set off purposely in that direction to see who or what she might find.


	22. Untamed

Runeclaw spent the better part of a month in the tiny village nestled into Honeydew Glade. Many of the Pandaren looked upon her with kindness and pity. She didn't particularly care for the sympathy, but she was well aware that it was by her own hand that she appeared so abject. They helped her tend to her wounds from her landing and gave her room to breathe. They sought to help her heal by offering not just poultices but aphorisms as well. The Pandaren were astute enough to realize not all her injuries originated in bone and sinew. In return, she helped them tend their crops, babysat their children while they toiled, told them the tales of Lomani'taka and many others, and shared her recipes in exchange for theirs. She learned that she had a taste for tea and which herbs made the best inks and which made the best food. She became friends with the forest prowlers and dragon turtles. In that brief time, she learned to love the bright land shrouded in mists and the peaceful inhabitants that dwelled within. She felt a kinship with the Pandaren people that tasted bittersweet in light of recent events. In another time of her life, she would have proudly called this race Family.

"Runeclaw, why do you always look so sad?" Young Sakiya asked one lazy, breezy afternoon. The scent of cherry blossoms wafted through town mingling with the aromas of fresh bread and herbal brews. She enjoyed spending time with the small Tauren woman. Some of her friends thought Runeclaw was grumpy, but she always had the most wonderful stories to tell. Sometimes she even looked a little happy when she talked about things like kodo and wind serpents. Sakiya had even seen Runeclaw turn into a giant cat once, but try as she might, she couldn't turn into one too.

"I'm not sad exactly," Runeclaw protested. "I'm just tired, I suppose. I feel ooooooold," she drawled, attempting to interject a little teasing. Children didn't need to be weighted down with the complexities of adulthood in her opinion. Runeclaw laced a rain poppy wreath into the cub's hair. Sakiya didn't understand what Runeclaw meant, but she smiled anyway because she liked it when the Tauren infrequently teased her.

"Papa says, 'Make happy those who are near and those who are far will come.' You make me happy, Runeclaw," Sakiya's girlish smile was full of sweet innocence as she slipped a furry paw into Runeclaw's hand and gave it a squeeze. She screwed up her face in thought. "He also says, 'Man with one chopstick goes hungry.' Sometimes I think Papa drinks too much stout," she confided with a giggle. It was a rare moment that drew a genuine smile from Runeclaw's usual somber expression, and one that she would treasure as a tiny beacon of light in the coming months when her future seemed especially grim.

The Horde and the Alliance continued their petty squabbling over some small fortress called Thunder Hold during that time. The Pandaren were understandably quite upset about this, and she dealt her own tenderness back to them in regard to the wreckage of their homeland. By her very nature as a druid, her heart wept for the destruction "her" people were bringing to this new land. There was an abundance of new plant and animal life she had only begun to scratch the surface of and they were all ruining it…again. Fires and acrid smoke constantly drifted on the wind from different locales. The native fauna was restless and on edge. The very essence of the earth seemed to be on the precipice of some unforgiveable action. It made Runeclaw nervous and even a little afraid of what might be coming if the two opposing forces didn't stop their skirmishing. For the first time in her life, she was acutely embarrassed about being "Horde." She realized she would have been equally mortified to call herself "Alliance." She sulked about the fact that she was incapable of doing anything to stop the battles cropping up all over the Jade Forest. All of this did nothing to help her already downtrodden view of the world these days. She had held a sliver of hope that somehow this new land and new people and new experiences might somehow help alleviate the dark pressure that had been building in her chest. Discouragingly, it was just more of the same here, the same stupid fights, the same stupid people, the same stupidity all around. She spent a lot of time apologizing for things she had no part of but felt responsible for regardless.

"Mayor Honeydew, I'm so sorry about this. If there's anything at all that I can do…," she trailed off, feeling uncertain about how her offer might be received. It was one that she extended frequently, part of her secretly wishing he'd just send her on her way with no further responsibility and part of her wishing he'd tell her to do something, anything, to feel like she might make a difference.

"Pathia, none of this is your doing. You carry too much responsibility on those shoulders of yours. You have done much for our village already. Sakiya talks about you nonstop to anyone who will listen. She's so young," the elder Pandaren's eyes clouded for a moment. "You have cared for our crops and the residents here without ever being asked. What more would you do? Surprising actions generally lead to victory," he concluded simply before someone began clamoring for his attention.

She pondered those parting words for several days as she went through rote motions of watering gardens, picking weeds, playing hide and seek, and hauling brew kegs. She awoke resolutely one morning with a plan in mind. She would go speak to Nazgrim. He still had no idea she had even survived the crash. While she didn't personally carry any clout, perhaps he would at least respect what she represented as a fairly accomplished druid in her own right. She ended up spending an entire afternoon trying to talk sense into that thick-headed orc that was in charge, trying to exhibit a level of maturity that was both beyond her years and that she didn't really feel. What she wanted to do in reality was shove him off the end of the earth into the maelstrom.

"General Nazgrim," she offered his title only as a concession to appeal to his vanity and soften her message. She was tired of going around and around with him on the subject, particularly since he kept cutting her off to bark orders at others. She was fairly sure he hadn't actually heard a single word she'd said over the last two hours. "You cannot continue this petty war on these lands. You're not just hurting each other; you're hurting everything you touch. Every blade of grass crushed beneath your boot, every prowler caught in the crossfire, for what? For a piece of land so far removed from Kalimdor that you've had to erect a portal just to travel back and forth."

"Druid, I don't expect your simple bovine mind to understand the political importance of Hellscream claiming this piece of land. You think we should let the Alliance have it? Settle here and get those…those…_bears_ to bolster their armies? Then what? Watch as they use sheer number to conquer your precious Mulgore? Bah! You bleeding-heart tree-huggers make me want to set fire to a forest. You don't understand, girl!" He dismissed her plea by turning his back on her.

Runeclaw's fists bunched at her sides as anger flared white and hot inside her breast. She had never exhibited a temper until recently, but now it seemed to get fed regularly whenever she looked upon the people she had once considered brethren. Her still undernourished frame trembled with simmering rage as a feral snarl curled back her lip to expose a pair of fangs. For a moment, sleek feline features warred with the blocky Shu'halo muzzle as she struggled to keep herself under control. She had no desire to contribute to this mess.

"This is not _your land_," she finally managed to growl out at the back of his head. "And this land will make that clear to you soon enough, orc." The last word was laced with contempt and derision as any pretense at niceties fled. She slurred it in such a manner that the three simple letters emitted the foulest insult ever laid upon someone's tongue. In the two seconds it took to permeate Nazgrim's overworked brain and spin around with his axe in hand, intent on teaching the whelp a lesson she'd never forget, the druid was already gone. Only a single paw print was left tattooed upon the ground and overlapping the larger stamp of a hoof.

The Sha came then, bleeding up through the charred land and infesting the noble prowling cats she held so dear, forcing her to kill some she had considered friend. Their darkness tainted everything and everyone they touched. The very crux of the Sha origin touched her on a primal cellular level and made her skin crawl with revulsion. She began to spend many long hours skulking about the forest in cat form, spying on the Alliance, Horde, and Sha alike. She watched the Hozen and Jinyu succumb to empty promises and become things they were never meant to be. She herded small bandicoon and tanuki to safer warrens. The shadowing wraiths filled her with despair just to gaze upon them. They amplified her hopelessness and guilt. They drowned her in doubt and impotent anger. Every negative emotion she had ever sought to conquer with cheery optimism rose with fiendish wrath to grapple with her already blemished spirit. Eventually, unable to take the constant bombardment of melancholy, she decided to leave the glade. She snuck out under the midnight cloak of a moonless night. The stigma of cowardice dogged every step of her escape as did the Sha who systematically spread their blight across the whole of Jade Forest. They flowed like a polluted stream down the channel forged by the feuding Azerothians.

The Horde and Alliance clashed brutally with their new allies in tow. They insulted and befouled the sacred temple grounds with their avarice and bloodlust. Warcries echoed their ferocity across the forest and resonated within every crane's whooping call of alarm. Screams of pain and surprise sang a discordant sympathy layered with the staccato beat of whining steel. The ground wept blood and fire and something infinitely more malevolent. The oblivious and inexperienced Hozen and Jinyu fought like gangly animals and fell not only to enemy blade but their own as well in the ensuing chaos. With her heart in her throat, she watched from a distance as the beautiful majesty of the Jade Serpent crashed to the ground with a sickening thud of finality. Splintered pieces caught the last rays of light and cast a sickly celadon pall across the land right before the grounds were overrun with Sha far more sinister than the idiots who had attracted them. The band across her chest tightened, suffocated her, and then choked the threatening tears from her throat. She turned her back on it all. In the darkest place inside her, she wished every human, orc, troll, dwarf, gnome, even every Horde-aligned Tauren dead so that the fighting might one day stop. She shed her humanity with her Shu'halo form, and it was only a great horned cat that crossed into the Valley of the Four Winds.


	23. A Rescue of Sorts - Part I

The sun was a haloed orb of warmth and light floating above the treetops. The grass and leaves giggled with each tickling tease of puffy breeze that caressed them. Flowers bowed their colorful heads with flirtatious winks of pinks, blues, yellows, and purples. The occasional sultry red made a daring appearance as well, just to lend the floral palette a little upscale classiness. Nearby, the lazy burbling water of the small tributary separating the Jade Forest from the Valley of the Four Winds could be heard adding its commentary to the local conversation. Here, the earth swelled with breath and sang and danced and drank and feasted and grew. It was drunk upon raindrops and golden rays and sharing its mirth with all who would listen. The valley was alive and thriving and both flora and fauna were taking advantage of the perfect weather to stretch their limbs or petals or trunks and carouse with their neighbors.

Runeclaw was also stretched out, upon her back with all four paws splayed out like a toppled drunkard. Her tail was motionless and buried in the thick blades of spongy turf and only her blunt muzzle jutted out from the tall rushes. The nose wiggled occasionally as she caught a whiff of something spicy-sweet carried on the current and once when a large bumblebee landed upon it and feathered its furry fat body across the leathery pad. This had been the sum total of her existence for many moons now. She lazed, she swam, she hunted, she lazed some more, perhaps she chased a butterfly or one of the annoying vermin that frequented these parts, and she finished her full days with more lazing. It was a good life. It was a calm life. It was an uncomplicated life. If sometimes an unpleasant recollection of another life, a life of Shu'Halo, a life of Druid, a life of Horde, managed to needle its way into her gladsome daydreams, it was merely cast upon the four winds to be carried anyway in any direction but here. Runeclaw was content.

Unfortunately, Runeclaw was still in a serious state of disarray despite having plenty of time to rebuild her former stamina and weight. What she considered to be contentment might have actually bordered on depression if felines were prone to such things. She was not a very good hunter and often found herself bumbling about trying to catch her dinner. The vermin were fast movers with extremely sharp teeth, and they tended rush at her in small groups. She was sporting more than a few nicks and scrapes crosshatching her fur from those endeavors. These days, she mostly just terrorized them by roaring and chasing them around to get even. She enjoyed their high-pitched shrieks as they scattered and watching their oddly shaped bodies tripping and go rolling downhill. If sometimes she herded them into a wolf den, well, the nasty little vegetarians probably deserved it anyway.

She continued to ponder her options for supper. She didn't dare try to attack the large avian filchers or the predatory wolves themselves. In fact, she gave both of them a very wide berth because they traveled in packs, large packs, strong packs. Eventually, she always seemed to end up with a slow-moving turtle for dinner or a couple of fish that swam too close to shore. The fish were harder to catch but the turtles were a lot of work for very little meat. Either way, she was hardly putting weight back on with such slim pickings. As she rose to her feet to stroll down toward the water's edge, her ribs were showing and her tawny red fur was dull. Her deep auburn mane, still decorated with the teal ends she had dyed into it months ago, was tangled and matted. Her once stubby horns had grown considerably and were much longer these days, but they were brittle and were more for impressive show than anything functionally defensive or offensive. In short, she looked like a mangy mutt of a lion.

The Hunter that had been stalking the sunny plains in the heart of Pandaria was a black hill among a vast expanse of green. He was large, typical of the Shu'Halo, but he managed to move with stealth and control. Braids twined with verdant trim of leaves and vines were clasped with knotted leather strips, and a well-crafted silver ring was set around the midsection of his left horn. The horns themselves swept forward at a curved angle and were ashen grey. Deliberate movements and great care were taken as he wandered for he was very far from his native wilds and in a very strange land. Pandaria had been unlike anything he had seen before. Eventually, his innate wanderlust had become so great that he had left his assigned duties to explore the land in hopes of finding something worthy to hunt.

Indeed, he had found something exotic. He had found Runeclaw. Never had he seen such a magnificent cat! So impressed was he with the decidedly odd creature that he chose to watch her rather than hunt her. For weeks, the hunter watched her live an almost enviable life filled with sunbathing and meandering about without fear. However, as the hunter tracked the great cat through the days, a problem soon revealed itself. To his eye, she seemed to be in a weakened state. A sympathetic pang had tugged at the hunter, and he had decided set into motion a plan that would hopefully lend itself to befriending the beast.

For two days, he had gathered enough food for the lion before returning to her usual haunts. He cut up a flank into small pieces as she rolled and hid within the tall grass and soaked up the afternoon sun. He waited with schooled patience for her to finally seek her usual late day meal and then surreptitiously deposited a tasty chunk in her vacated sunning spot. He left a trail of meaty "breadcrumbs" leading towards a secluded cave. A pair of ancient trees was conveniently braced on either side of the entrance to shield the interior. He then sat back to await the creature's inevitable arrival.

Runeclaw was used the comings and goings of the odd assortment of humanoid creatures that wandered these lands. Like most of the other wildlife, she tended to ignore them, hide from them, or stalk them depending on the threat level she perceived. It wasn't uncommon for them to stick around for a few days, doing baffling two-legged things that seemed to involve a lot of needless scurrying around, and then move on again. So when she returned from the riverbank as a dripping mess after an unsuccessful fishing attempt and found a chunk of meat lying upon the dented grass where she normally pillowed her head, she considered it her dumb luck that one of those beings had dropped its own supper. It did happen from time to time that they would lose food or items when running pell-mell from something, flapping their arms about wildly, shouting and throwing things at whatever was chasing them (occasionally, that would be her). Her sleek whiskers curled forward as her nose moved about the item with soft chuffles and whiffs. Her eyes narrowed shrewdly as her head lifted and she scented the four winds in turn.

She remembered all the smells on the winds from the tiny blades of grass to the large lumbering beasts. In her mind, the bipedal that had left the meat was a shadowy outline of vague familiarity. He had watched her for a time and then departed a few days ago. She puzzled over his return only briefly. Free meat is free meat, after all. After a cautious lick across the marbled flank, she scarfed it up with an answering grumble of her empty belly. There was more of it a few paces away and she followed along, sniffing, licking, and snacking her way through the grass. When she came within calling distance of the furry male losing his food all across the landscape, she sat down on her haunches and peered into the depths of the cave. Somewhere inside herself, she felt animosity for whatever it was or whatever it stood for, but advanced thinking wasn't something she indulged in these days. The feeling fluttered around restlessly and then settled as an ever-present caution within her chest. Perhaps the giant bore watching as well.

Sensing he was being watched, the hunter froze in place from where he was setting up his bedroll. He peeked over his shoulder and spotted the cat, sitting, staring, waiting, and he knew he was going to have to be very careful with this one. He had food he was willing to share but she was undomesticated and had claws…big claws. And those horns! They jutted from the animal's skull like twin lances. Runeclaw had undergone more than a druidic transformation over the past months. She looked every part of the feline predator she had become as she continued to sit there. Her senses were keener, more feral, but her thinking was simpler. She was a wild, savage thing, and despite her apparent calm demeanor, she would not be trifled with. Carefully, he tossed another flank, a whole piece this time, out of the cave so that it landed in the clearing between the sheltering trees. He leaned back to watch the feline's reaction to the peace offering.

Runeclaw's nose wiggled back and forth making her appear more like the plus-sized rodents that swarmed the valley than a lion. Her upper lip curled back in a warning snarl as the meat sailed through the air and landed halfway between the two of them. She might not do a lot of productive thinking but she was hardly stupid. Something about this scenario left a nagging sense of déjà vu. A lifetime ago she might have witnessed this exact same tactic among a similar people, but now that memory was just another ghostly sensation that settled next to the caution. After a few long, tense moments, she got to her feet and boldly stalked forward as if he was the one in _her_ cave and eating _her_ food. She was satisfied to see the hunter look mildly surprised as she waltzed towards him. Her amber eyes never left his face as she gripped the meat in her jaws perhaps a bit more viciously than was strictly required to actually masticate her food. She marched right into the cave after that, swatting insolently at his pack resting near the entrance and sending his things scattering across the stone floor.

"Hey!" he cried indignantly as she trashed his belongings.

A flash of something shiny caught her eye as it skittered under his bedroll. In an instant, her eyes brightened with kittenish glee as she leapt forward right at the hunter, knocking him to the ground and eliciting a grunt, scrambling across his back, and then attacking the blanket with gusto as she tried to locate the small "toy." Somehow, he managed to keep his calm as the beast charged towards him like a fuzzy bolt of lightning and bowled him over. As he stared up at the roof of the cave, he realized it was going to be one of _those_ weeks. He tried to dodge the lion's claws as bedding flew about like confetti. With alacrity born of not wanting to die, his left hand fished around aimlessly for the object that had caught the beast's attention.

"Aha!" He cried as his fist snatched it up quickly. The hunter held the item up and made a clicking noise with his tongue. It was a small brass medallion inlaid with a hypnotic pattern of anfractuous, luminous silver. It was merely an insignificant trinket he had received from a local as a reward.

"Is this what you want?" he queried in a soothing, tenor tone.

Runeclaw jerked her attention toward the hunter's voice. A shred of woolen coverlet was snagged on her teeth and dangled from her jaws. Another torn piece of blanket hung limply from one horn and hooded her left eye. She gave her head a shake to clear her vision as her ears slanted backward and her whiskers flicked forward. Was it speaking or growling at her? She couldn't really tell the difference. For the moment though, all was still as her little mind worried itself on how to capture her "prize." She had amassed quite the collection of pretty items gathered around the valley, and she kept them all stashed in a shallow hole under a rather big boulder.

The hunter watched the feline just as carefully in return. His golden irises flicked side to side as he watched for any movement, any errant twitch. It was obvious that the small bauble was the source of the animal's bedlam. He dared not take his eyes off her for fear she'd do something worse than just knock him to the ground this time. Her mane looked nappy and dry, but he thought that with time it might become lush and soft again. He was puzzled by the unusual coloration. It looked as if the ends had been purposely dyed teal. Had she once been another hunter's pet? Perhaps her former master had met his or her end in the unforgiving wilds of the valley? Was that why she appeared to be such an inadequate hunter herself? Maybe she had grown too domesticated while in someone else's care? All these questions tumbled about his mind as neither of them moved nor barely breathed.

Runeclaw did not at all care for what she perceived as him teasing her with her newly found treasure and said so, only it came out sounding more like a guttural growl of vengeance than "Stop that!"

The dominating gnarr caught him off guard. He blinked once and then made eye contact with the beast as he slowly placed the object on the ground. He then just as deliberately took two steps backward. A smile tugged at his lips, however, because if he was right about the would-be magpie he had a trinket that was much more exciting than this. Runeclaw assumed her message had translated just fine as he relinquished the object, and so it was with smug satisfaction that she clamped the object quite carefully between her jaws. She had once accidentally put her canines right through a soft gold talisman, and now it looked a bit more like Alterac Swiss.

"You can get out of my cave now," she mumbled around the orb while pushing it into one cheek. This gave her the puffy appearance of a mutated squirrel. The only "words" the hunter heard were a series sounds consisting of rrrrs and mrrrows when she "spoke." All attempts to stifle a laugh failed as her cheek bulged, and he almost broke his gaze as he snorted a guffaw at her.

"Quite the character," he mused.

Not breaking his gaze from hers, he retrieved his battered pack and fished around until as he found what he sought. His body tensed in case the creature decided to charge him again, and with great care he shook the curio – a bell, handmade back upon the Bluffs. The tinkling sound echoed off the stone walls of the cave. Runeclaw's left ear zinged forward while the right winged back. Her head canted just slightly to the side while she rolled the medallion around her mouth like a sour suckerpop. She was captivated by the musical melody emanating from the tiny instrument. Her tail swished through the pebbly debris of the cave floor in time with the sweet chiming. An echoing warbling purr came from her throat. Distantly, she remembered this sound, a sound of happiness and laughter and bright gaiety. A feeling of comfort and satisfaction swelled up inside of her.

While he was sure he looked absolutely ridiculous trying to barter with a horned lion in a cave in the middle of a lost continent, he didn't really care. She obviously needed food and medicine, and if he was honest with himself, he needed the company. He had to win this creature over; he just had to.


End file.
